^> 


JUSTICE   AND  LIBERTY 

A   POLITICAL   DIALOGUE 
BY 

G.  LOWES  DICKINSON 

Author  of 

Letters  from  a  Chinese  Official,  The  Greek  View 
of  Life,  A  Modem  Symposium,  etc. 


>Es  erben  sich  Gesetz'  und  Rechte 
Wie  eine  ew'ge  Kraokheit  fort " 

OOKTBC 


GARDEN   CITY  NEW   YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1920 


Copyright,  1908,  by  The  McClure  Company 

Published,  October,  1908 


Copyright,  1908,  by  G.  Lowes  Dickinson 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

§  1.     Introduction   ..................................  3 

§2.     Forms  of  Society  .............................  13 

(1)  Oligarchy  ...............................  13 

(2)  Aristocracy   .............................  20 

(3)  Ochlocracy  ..............................  22 

(4)  Democracy    .............................  24 

(5)  Existing    Society  ..........................  26 

§3.    The  Institution  of  Marriage  ..............  ......  33 

(1)  On  regulating  the  number  of  the  population  35 

(2)  On  regulating  the  quality  of  the  population  40 

(3)  On  the  possibility  of  such  regulation  ......  43 

(4)  On  Love  and  Marriage  ..................  45 

(5)  On  the  breeding  of  types  in  an  Aristocracy  49 

(6)  On  the  breeding  of  types  in  a  Democracy.  .  52 

§4.    The  Institution  of  Property  ...................  54. 

(1)  The  distribution  of  labour  in  Existing  So- 

ciety   ...............................  58 

(2)  The  distribution  of  labour  in  an  Aristoc- 


racy 


67 


(3)  The  distribution  of  labour  in  a  Democracy  70 

(4)  The  distribution  of  the  products  of  labour 

in   Existing  Society    .................  82 

(a)  The  inheritance  of  wealth  ...........  83 

(b)  Rent    ..............................  86 

(c)  Interest  ............................  88 

(d)  Wages   .............................  92 


2032789 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE. 

(5)  The  equitable  distribution  of  the  products 

of  labour   104 

(a)  Distribution  according  to  need 110 

(b)  Distribution  according  to  desert 110 

(6)  The  relation  of  the  productivity  of  Existing 

Society  to  its  system  of  property 119 

§  5.     Government  134 

(1)  Is  government  necessary 134 

(2)  The  extent  of  governmental  interference  in 

Existing  Society    143 

(3)  Government  in  an  Aristocracy 148 

(4)  Government  in  a  Democracy 150 

(a)  The  regulation  of  marriage 152 

(b)  Education 155 

(c)  The    regulation    of   industry    by    au- 

thority    156 

(d)  The  regulation  of  industry  by  induce- 

ment     165 

(e)  Unregulated  industry  in  a  Democracy  176 

§  6.    The  "  Spirit "  of  the  communities  that  have  been 

considered    188 

(1 )  The  Spirit  of  Existing  Society 189 

(2)  The  Spirit  of  an  Aristocracy 193 

(3)  The  Spirit  of  a  collectivist  Democracy 195 

(4)  The  Spirit  of  an  individualistic  Democracy  196 

§  7.    A  comparison  of  the  communities  that  have  been 

considered   197 

§8.    The  importance  of  political  ideals  as  guides  to 

practice 215 

§  9.    The  relation  of  ideals  to  facts 220 


1 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 


THE  SPEAKERS  ARE: 
Henry  Martin,  a  professor. 
Charles  Stuart,  a  banker. 
Sir  John  Harington,  a  gentleman  of  leisure. 


JUSTICE    AND    LIBERTY 

Stuart.  In  the  same  place?  I  knew  we  should  find  §*•  Introduotio 
you  here.  And  always  studying? 
Martin.  Dreaming,  I  fear  you  would  call  it.  The 
place  invites  to  it.  I  love  the  sound  and  sight  of 
the  running  water,  the  great  green  slopes   fra- 
grant with  pines,  and  the  granite  cliffs  shining 
against  the  sky .  "BuTTio-day  I  am  saying  farewell 
to  them.  I  return  home  to-morrow. 
Harington.  To-morrow !  Why  ? 
Martin.  The  day  after  is  the  polling-day  in  my 
constituency. 

Harington.  And  you  are  really   going  back  to 
vote? 

Martin.  Certainly.  Why  not? 
Stuart.  Don't  you  know  he  is  a  great  politician? 
At  the  time  of  the  Boer  war  I  had  to  engage  in  a 
free  fight  to  protect  him  against  a  hostile  meeting. 
And  it  was  the  more  provoking  because,  of  course, 
I  was  on  the  other  side. 

Martin.  Stuart  has  the  greatest  contempt  for  my 
political  opinions. 

Stuart.  I  haven't  the  least  objection  to  your  opin- 
ions, so  long  as  you  don't  try  to  bring  them  to 
[3] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

bear  on  practice.  My  quarrel  with  you  is  not  that 
you  have  speculative  views,  but  that  you  want  to 
apply  them. 

Martin.  My  misfortune  is  that  I  can  never,  with 
the  best  will  in  the  world,  dissociate  practice 
from  speculation.  Really,  I  have  tried  very  hard. 
When  I  was  a  young  man,  deep  in  philosophy,  I 
was  tormented  by  the  obstinate  persistence  of 
the  concrete  world,  in  apparent  independence 
of  my  thinking.  At  last  I  resolved  to  plunge 
into  it  and  see  what  it  was  really  made  of. 
I  became  an  engineer,  or  endeavoured  to.  But  it 
was  no  use.  The  workshop  led  me  to  mechanics, 
and  mechanics  to  physics,  and  physics  back  to 
metaphysics.  The  real  world,  as  they  call  it,  I 
found  was  nothing  but  a  web  spun  out  of  the 
stuff  of  thought.  As  it  stood,  and  as  it  appeared, 
it  had  for  me  no  interest.  Its  interest  was  that 
it  was  soul  embodied.  And  so  it  has  been  all 
through  my  life.  The  practical,  wherever  I  have 
tried  to  penetrate  it,  in  order  to  abide  in  it,  has 
let  me  down  and  through  into  the  speculative 
again. 

Stuart.  That  means,  I  suppose,  what  I  have 
always  thought,  that  you  were  meant  to  be  a 
metaphysician. 

Martin.  Alas,  no!  For  the  speculative,  as  fast, 
tosses  me  back  to  the  practical.  I  am  like  those 

[*] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

unhappy  souls  who  can  find  no  acceptance  either 
in  heaven  or  in  hell.  If  I  begin  with  Hegel  I 
end  in  the  stock-exchange ;  if  I  begin  with  the 
stock-exchange  I  end  in  Hegel. 
Stuart.  And  if  you  begin,  as  we  did  the  other 
day,  with  the  reform  of  the  income-tax,  you  end 
with  a  discussion  of  the  principles  of  Plato's 
"  Republic." 

Martin.  It  was  Harington  who  brought  us  there. 
But  the  connexion  is  obvious  enough. 
Stuart.  I  am  afraid  it  still  escapes  me. 
Martin.  There  is  abcrntTyou,  as  about  most  men 
I  have  met  who  are  engaged  in  business,  a  calm 
belief  in  the  finality  of  the  order  of  things  in 
which  you  work  which  I  view  with  as  much  aston- 
ishment as  you  do  my  predilection  for  the  untried 
and  unknown.  Though  you  know,  I  suppose,  in 
a  general  way,  that  the  history  of  Man  has  been 
nothing  but  a  process  of  transformation ;  and 
that  the  gulf  in  ideals  and  in  achievement  be- 
tween an  ancient  Briton  and  a  modern  English- 
man is  as  great,  at  least,  as  that  between  a  mod- 
ern Englishman  and  the  kind  of  man  a  Utopian 
imagines,  yet  you  dismiss  without  further  ado 
as  impracticable  dreams  all  those  visions  of  the 
future  which  to  me  are  the  only  things  much 
worth  considering. 

Stuart.  I  dismiss  them,  not  because  they  point 
[5] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

to  an  order  different  from  that  under  which  we 
live, —  no  doubt  some  different  order,  for  better 
or  for  worse,  will  come  about  —  but  because  I 
judge  the  proposals  laid  before  me  to  be  imprac- 
ticable. 

Martin.  Yes ;  but  why  is  it  that  you  do  so  dog- 
matically judge  them  to  be  impracticable?  While 
I  find  it  so  difficult  to  decide  whether  they  are  so, 
or  no. 

Stuart.  I  suppose,  if  I  may  say  so  without 
offence,  because  my  line  of  life  has  brought  me 
more  closely  into  touch  with  realities  than  yours 
has  you. 

Martin.  That  sounds  a  reasonable  explanation 
and  I  have  often  tried  to  accept  it.  I  should  be 
so  glad,  if  I  could,  to  get  away  from  all  these 
questions,  on  the  ground  of  incompetence.  But 
always,  when  I  talk  to  men  of  business,  with  what 
I  believe  to  be  an  open  mind,  I  find  myself  pro- 
foundly dissatisfied.  For  though  these  men  know 
much  more  than  I  do  about  affairs,  and  are,  in 
many  cases,  at  least  as  competent  to  analyse  and 
understand  what  they  know,  yet  always  they  have 
at  the  bottom  of  their  minds  certain  fixed  ax- 
ioms about  what  is  equitable  or  otherwise  desir- 
able, which  they  have  never  examined,  which  I 
am  unable  to  accept,  but  on  which,  at  bottom, 
their  whole  argument  proceeds. 
[6] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  What  sort  of  axioms  do  you  mean? 
Martin.  Well  —  to  take  the  most  important  and 
the  most  common  —  that  property  and  the  family 
are  sacred  and  ultimate  facts,  meaning  by 
property  and  the  family  the  particular  arrange- 
ments we  now  have  in  those  fundamental  matters. 
So  that,  if  any  proposed  change  involves  a  radical 
reconstruction  of  those  institutions,  they  do  not 
really  consider  it  even  while  they  seem  to  be  argu- 
ing about  it,  but  have  already  rejected  it  before 
the  discussion  begins.  And  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  even  some  of  the  Economists  approach 
their  subject  in  the  same  way,  and  with  all  their 
learning  and  good  faim  are  often,  without  sus- 
pecting it,  really  rather  advocates  than  men  of 
science. 

Stuart.  Whether  that  were  so  or  no  would  make 
no  difference,  if  their  arguments  are  con- 
clusive. I  do  not  pretend  myself  to  be  free  from 
prejudices  —  I  don't  believe  anyone  ever  was  or 
will  be  —  but  my  objections  to  any  far-reaching 
scheme  of  reform  of  which  I  have  ever  heard, 
though  they  may  be  confirmed  by  my  prejudices, 
do  not  depend  upon  them.  They  depend  upon 
hard  reasoning. 

Martin.  Yes;  but  how  hard?  That  is  my  other 
trouble.  The  difficulty  about  all  discussion  of 
these  subjects  is  that  at  bottom  you  come  back 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

to  supposed  truths  about  human  nature.  Now 
the  people  I  talk  to  nearly  always  assume  that 
human  nature  is  a  fixed  quantity  which  they  have 
more  or  less  accurately  measured.  But  to  me  it  is 
a  Being  in  perpetual  transformation.  What  it 
was  a  thousand  years  ago,  it  is  not  now,  and  will 
not  be  a  thousand  years  hence.  What  it  is  in 
Asia  or  in  Africa,  it  is  not  in  Europe.  It  is  a 
growing  creature,  and  we  know  almost  nothing 
about  the  laws  of  its  growth.  To  fix  it,  then,  at 
a  certain  point,  to  say  "  so  it  is  and  so  it  must 
be;  and  therefore  only  such  and  such  a  form  of 
society  is  possible,"  is,  from  my  point  of  view, 
preposterous.  And  that  is  why  I  go  away  dissat- 
isfied and  unconvinced  from  the  acutest  argument 
and  the  subtlest  analysis,  feeling  that  it  is  all 
founded  on  assumptions  that  I  cannot  accept. 
Stuart.  No  reasonable  man  imagines  that  there 
may  not  be  changes  in  human  nature  whereby 
things  may  become  possible  that  are  not  possible 
now.  Only,  we  say,  first  change  your  human  na- 
ture before  you  begin  meddling  with  institutions. 
Martin.  That  again  sounds  so  reasonable,  yet 
really,  in  practice,  is  so  obstructive.  For  if  it 
be  true  that  institutions  depend  on  human  nature, 
it  is  also  true  that  human  nature  depends  on  them, 
and  on  our  ideas  about  them.  And  if  you  treat 
institutions  as  something  sacrosanct,  if  you  rule 
[8] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

out  all  criticism  of  them,  and  all  experimenting 
with  them,  you  are  hindering  precisely  the  change 
in  human  nature  which  you  say  you  want,  by 
suppressing  that  insurrection  of  the  spirit  which 
alone  can  bring  it  about.  It  is  not  enough  to  urge 
the  rich  to  be  generous  and  chivalrous,  or  the 
poor  to  be  patient  and  thrifty ;  such  appeals 
leave  men  cold.  What  really  stirs  them  is  a  de- 
monstration that  the  order  under  which  they  live 
is  neither  reasonable  nor  just.  They  may  then 
come  to  find  it  so  intolerable  that  they  can  no 
longer  rest  in  it.  And  then,  and  then  only,  you 
have  the  condition  of  y/ur  change  in  human  na- 
ture. 

Stuart.  Well,  there  are  socialists  enough  attempt- 
ing that  demonstration. 

Martin.  Yes ;  but  their  way  of  putting  the  case 
has  somehow  not  been  successful  with  exactly 
the  men  who  most  need  conversion,  the  able  men 
who  actually  direct  and  control  the  business 
world. 

Stuart.  I  suggest  that  the  reason  for  that  is  pre- 
cisely that  these  are  able  men. 
Martin.  I  think  not;  I  think  the  reason  is  that 
they  are  men  of  very  little  education,  and  of  no 
imagination,  outside  the  region  of  business. 
They  do  not  really  see  the  facts  to  which  social- 
ists call  attention,  because  they  do  not  really  feel 
[9] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

them.  They  refute,  or  rather  they  ignore,  with- 
out having  understood ;  and  they  have  not  under- 
stood because  they  have  not  appreciated.  Their 
good  faith  I  shall  not  deny;  what  I  dispute  is 
their  competence.  They  have  never  experienced 
that  upheaval  of  the  soul  which  has  made  the 
socialist  a  socialist  by  showing  him  everything  in 
a  new  light,  both  the  facts  of  the  present  and  the 
possibilities  of  the  future.  They  are,  I  should  be 
inclined  to  admit,  more  competent  than  most  so- 
cialists, insomuch  that  I  can  hardly  imagine  any 
successful  revolution  taking  place  without  their 
willing  and  active  co-operation.  But  their  ability, 
for  the  purposes  in  which  I  am  interested,  is  of 
no  use,  until  they  have  undergone  some  process 
equivalent  to  conversion.  After  conversion,  it  is 
true,  they  might  still  be  against  almost  everything 
that  socialists  have  ever  proposed,  though  I  do 
not  think  it  likely  that  they  would  be.  But  even 
so,  their  opposition  would  be  of  a  quite  different 
kind  from  what  it  is  now.  It  would  be  that  of 
men  who  want  to  help  reform,  not  to  hinder  it. 
"  If  such  and  such  a  thing  is  not  practicable," 
they  would  say,  "  then  we  must  try  so  and  so." 
Whereas  now  their  attitude  most  commonly  is, 
"  we  must  make  out  that  everything  is  imprac- 
ticable, in  order  that  nothing  may  be  done." 
Stuart.  Well,  if  you  come  to  that,  why  should 
[10] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

anything  be  done  of  the  drastic  and  revolutionary 
kind?  I'm  not  an  optimist;  I  think  there's  a  great 
deal  of  evil  in  the  world,  some  of  which  is  pre- 
ventible.  But  neither  am  I  a  pessimist.  Things 
are  tolerable  as  they  are ;  society  as  we  know  it  is 
a  machine  that  at  any  rate  does  somehow  work. 
Whereas,  if  you  once  begin  to  pull  it  to 
pieces,  with  a  view  to  improving  it,  you  may 
never  be  able  to  put  it  together  again. 
Martin.  Do  you  think  ^oujerould  take  that  view, 
if,  having  all  your  present  experience  and  ability, 
you  were  one  of  the  poor,  instead  of  one  of  the 
well-to-do  ? 

Stuart.  I  think  I  ought  to ;  but  perhaps  I  should 
not,  because  I  should  be  blinded  by  indignation 
or  hope. 

Martin.  And  are  you  not  blinded  now,  if  not  by 
hope,  by  fear?  Are  we  not  all  of  us  so  blinded  in 
our  class, —  unless,  indeed,  we  have  been  con- 
verted ? 

Stuart.  Possibly;  but  it  is  no  use  to  exchange  one 
bias  for  another. 

Martin.  But  we  may  endeavour  to  correct  the 
one  by  taking  account  of  the  other.  The  well-to- 
do,  at  any  rate,  would  do  well  to  look  at  society 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  poor. 
Stuart.  That,  it  seems  to  me,  is  just  what  they 
are  all  doing. 

[11] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  Not  all;  and  especially  not  those  who 
most  ought  to,  the  business  men  who,  for  good 
or  for  evil,  are  responsible  more  than  any  one  else 
for  the  continuance  of  our  social  order. 
Stuart.  It  is  they  who  need  conversion? 
Martin.  Yes. 

Stuart.  Well,  I  am  one  of  them,  and  I  am  here 
at  your  mercy.   Convert  me  if  you  can ! 
Martin.  Alas!  I  am  not  a  prophet,  nor  an  econ- 
omist, nor  even  a  socialist,  but  at  best  a  perplexed 
inquirer  socialistically  inclined.     Besides,  I  have 
first  to  convert  Harington. 
Stuart.  What !  do  the  doctors  disagree  ? 
Martin.  Yes ;  but  they  agree  in  disagreeing  with 
you.  Harington  and  I  both  condemn  our  present 
social  order,  though  we  differ  as  to  what  we  would 
wish  to  substitute. 

Stuart.  What  is  the  point  of  difference? 
Martin.  Briefly,  he  is  an  aristocrat,  and  I  am  a 
democrat. 

Stuart.  Well,  I'm  something  of  an  aristocrat  my- 
self, so  probably  I  should  agree  with  him. 
Harington.  That  isn't  likely,  for  I  am  quite  as 
much  an  idealist  as  Martin. 

Stuart.  I  suppose  you  are,  in  your  haughty,  re- 
mote way.  But  you  don't  obtrude  your  idealism 
as  he  does,  for  you  never  seem  to  imagine  it  to 
be  practicable. 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 
Harington.  In  this  bad  age  I  think  nothing  good 
practicable. 

Martin.  You  see  how  difficult  my  position  is  be- 
tween you  both.  I  have  to  convince  you  of  the 
value  of  ideals  in  general,  and  Harington  of  the 
preferability  of  my  ideal  to  his. 
Stuart.  Well,  if  you  like  to  spend  your  last  day 
in  that  forlorn  attempt,  I  have  no  objection. 
Martin.  In  what  way  better  could  I  spend  it?  If 
only  you  don't  mind  listening. 
Stuart.  Not  in  the  least !  I  have  a  pipe. 
Martin.  Smoke,  then,  and  listen,  and  interrupt 
when   you   feel   inclined,   which  I   hope   will  be 
often,  for  I  mean  to  provoke  you. 
Stuart.  Do,  as  much  as  you  can.  I  have  the  best 
of  tempers. 

Martin.  What  I  have  to  do  then,  so  far  as  Har- 
ington is  concerned,  is  to  elicit  the  principles  of 
his  ideal,  and  of  mine,  and  to  compare  them ;  and 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned,  to  compare  both 
with  bur  existing  society,  and  so  make  it  clear  to 
you  that  we  need  ideals,  and  definite  ones,  both  to 
judge  it  and  to  improve  it. 
Stuart.  Very  good. 
Martin.  I  will  begin,  then,  with  a  point  on  which   § 
both  Harington  and  I  are  agreed,  that  by  Aristo- 
cracy and  Democracy  we  mean  not  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, but  forms  of  society.  They  are  distin- 
[13] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

guishable,  I  mean,  by  the  end  which  the  com- 
munity sets  before  itself,  not  merely  by  the  num- 
ber of  persons  in  whom  it  vests  political  power. 
Harington.  Certainly. 

Martin.  And  the  distinction,  would  you  agree, 
will  be  something  of  this  kind : —  Aristocracy 
aims  at  the  good  of  a  class ;  and  Democracy  at 
the  good  of  the  Whole? 

Harington.  You  can  hardly  expect  me  to  concede 
that !  Aristocracy,  as  I  conceive  it,  certainly  aims 
at  the  good  of  the  Whole. 

Martin.  Then  you  dissociate  yourself,  at  the  out- 
set, from  a  certain  modern  school,  who  maintain 
that  the  only  Good  is  Power;  I  ought  to  apolo- 
gise to  them  for  using  the  word  Good,  for  they 
say  there  is  no  such  thing ;  but  though  they  re- 
pudiate the  word,  they  seem  to  intend  what  it 
means,  for  they  say  that  Power  is  the  only  thing 
a  noble  man  will  care  to  pursue;  and  they  praise 
those  who  pursue  it  and  despise  those  who  do  not. 
Harington.  Meaning  by  Power  domination  over 
other  men? 

Martin.  Yes.  And  this  domination,  they  hold,  is 
in  itself  an  end;  whereas  justice  and  kindness  and 
humanity,  and  other  such  qualities,  are  false 
ideals,  entertained  only  by  the  weak  and  the  de- 
generate. So  that,  in  their  view,  an  artistocratic 
community  would  be  one  in  which  the  mass  of  men 
[14] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

were  subject  to  the  few,  and  these  few  exercised 
their  power  not  for  the  Good  of  the  subjects  — 
for  that  they  hold  to  be  a  base  ideal  —  but  for  the 
sake  of  its  life-enhancing  effect  upon  themselves. 
Harington.  You  are  thinking,  I  suppose,  of 
Nietzsche  and  those  who  profess  to  be  his  dis- 
ciples. But  surely  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  take 
account  of  them?  Nietzsche  himself,  no  doubt, 
was  a  man  of  genius.  But  owing,  as  I  think,  to 
his  lonely  and  unnatural  life,  and  in  part,  per- 
haps, to  the  disease  of  which  he  died,  he  had  lost 
all  sense  of  proportion.  And  his  followers,  who 
echo  his  extravagance  without  the  excuse  of  his 
genius,  seem  to  me  very  insincere  and  foolish  peo- 
ple! I  have,  I  confess,  very  little  patience  with 
men  who,  living  an  ordinary  middle-class  life,  and 
possessing,  themselves,  and  expecting  others  to 
possess  all  the  characteristics  of  the  class  which 
they  affect  to  despise,  yet  imagine  they  would 
be  at  home  in  a  society  in  which  there  should 
be  no  rule  but  the  law  of  the  strong,  and 
in  which  merely  to  exist,  I  do  not  say  to  dominate, 
would  demand  qualities,  call  them  virtues  or  vices, 
which  they  are  the  last  people  likely  to  be  able 
to  show.  A  man  who  had  the  right  to  such  opin- 
ions as  these  men  profess  would  surely,  in  our 
society,  become  a  great  criminal,  an  active  revolu- 
tionary, or  anarchist ;  he  would  not  compose,  over 
[15] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

his   sausage   and   his   beer,   phrases   to   frighten 
children. 

'Martin.  I  do  not  know  what  these  gentlemen 
might  say  in  their  defence,  if  they  were  here. 
iYou,  it  seems,  will  not  champion  them,  as  I  had 
half  hoped;  and  I  cannot.  But  putting  aside 
these  philosophers,  who  profess  but  do  not  prac- 
tise the  doctrine  of  Power,  there  have  always  been, 
men  in  society  who  practise  without  professing  it. 
Nietzsche's  strong  man  is  not  a  mere  ideal;  he's 
a  fact.  A  Greek  tyrant,  or  a  mediaeval  baron,  or 
a  Renaissance  prince,  more  often  than  not,  was 
such  a  man.  And  in  our  own  time,  if  report  is 
to  be  believed,  we  find  the  type  in  the  great 
financiers.  Some  of  these,  it  would  almost  seem, 
are  creditable  modern  representatives  of  Periander, 
or  of  Front-de-Boeuf,  or  of  Caesar  Borgia.  For 
it  is  Power,  not  wealth  or  comfort,  at  which 
they  aim;  and  in  pursuit  of  that  aim  they 
trample  under  foot  all  law  and  all  morality. 
As  the  ancient  tyrant  or  the  mediaeval  baron 
robbed,  so  do  they ;  only,  where  he  stole  lands  and 
castles  and  material  goods,  they  steal  the  symbols 
of  these  things,  securities  and  cash.  As  the  tyrant 
and  the  baron  tortured  and  murdered,  so  do  they ; 
only  where  he  with  his  own  hands  used  the  rack 
and  the  knife,  saw  the  blood  flow  and  heard  the 
victim  scream,  they  perhaps  never  see  or  learn 
[16] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

the  consequences  of  their  operations,  except  when 
they  read  in  the  papers,  or  hear  in  conversation 
as  they  return  from  church,  that  this  man  is  in 
the  bankruptcy  court,  that  in  the  lunatic  asylum, 
while  another  has  committed  suicide  leaving  his 
wife  and  children  destitute.  But  such  effects,  it 
must  be  presumed,  according  to  the  theory  we  are 
discussing,  are  delightful  to  them  rather  than 
otherwise;  for  they  enhance  their  sense  of  life. 
Power  being  their  ideal,  they  are  most  conscious 
of  having  achieved  it  when  the  resistance  over 
which  they  have  triumphed  has  been  most  vigor- 
ous ;  and  what  provokes  resistance  more  deter- 
mined than  the  prospect  of  spoliation,  ruin  and 
death?  The  more,  therefore,  the  victims  suffer  the 
more  the  "  Overman  "  rejoices ;  for  the  more  con- 
scious he  is  of  being  strong ;  and  in  that  sense  of 
strength  lies  his  whole  satisfaction  in  life. 
Stuart.  That  may  be  a  description  of  Nietzsche's 
"  Overman ; "  but  it  is  an  absurd  caricature  even 
of  the  American  financier. 

Martin.  I  will  admit,  if  you  like,  that  it  is  a  cari- 
cature of  both ;  but  the  fact  that  we  cannot  think 
it  to  be  anything  else  is  itself  a  criticism  of  the 
ideal  of  Power.  We  feel,  in  fact,  and  I  think 
everyone  would  feel,  that  that  ideal,  purely,  sim- 
ply, and  in  abstraction  from  all  others,  never 
could  be  entertained  by  any  sane  man ;  and  that 
[17] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

the  men  who  have  entertained  it  —  possibty  there 
have  been  such  —  must  be  set  aside  as  abnormal. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  true,  I  believe,  that  the  enjoy- 
ment of  Power,  not  absolutely  and  at  all  costs, 
but  subject  to  certain  considerations  of  hu- 
manity and  justice,  or  at  least  of  prudence,  has 
been  a  main  motive  of  all  governing  classes ;  and 
its  maintenance,  rather  than  the  Good  of  the 
whole,  the  object  of  their  polity.  In  the  case  of 
the  typical  tyrant  this  is  obvious  enough ;  but  if 
he,  as  I  have  suggested,  is  not  to  be  regarded  as 
a  normal  type,  we  may  find  examples  enough 
elsewhere.  In  every  slave-owning  community,  for 
example  —  and  in  the  history  of  the  world  most 
communities  have  owned  slaves  —  the  main  pur- 
pose of  all  institutions  is  to  preserve  the  su- 
premacy of  the  masters ;  that  they  shall  have 
power  comes  first  —  it  is  the  fundamental  axiom 
—  and  how  they  shall  use  it,  with  what  measure  of 
equity  or  benevolence,  comes  second.  The  same  is 
true  wherever  the  white  race  comes  in  cpntact  with 
coloured  peoples ;  that  the  white  shall  have  power, 
and  sole  power,  is  the  dominant  consideration. 
Or,  to  take  milder  examples,  the  first  object,  one 
may  fairly  say,  of  the  English  aristocracy,  in 
their  great  days,  was  to  maintain  and  perpetuate 
their  power ;  and  the  same  purpose,  it  might  be 
urged,  without  much  exaggeration,  animates  the 
[18] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

rich  class  that  really  governs  our  own  society. 
History,  indeed,  as  I  read  it,  is  an  almost  un- 
broken record  of  government  by  classes  or  indi- 
viduals in  their  own  interest,  though  I  do  not 
pretend  that  their  government  may  not  often  and 
at  many  points  have  been  also  in  the  interests  of 
the  community.  So  far,  then,  they  have  really 
represented  that  ideal  of  Power  attributed  by 
Nietzsche  to  the  "  Overman."  And  that  is  why  I 
introduced  his  conception  at  the  beginning;  for 
I  thought  perhaps  you  would  be  content  to  call 
such  governments  aristocratic,  and  that  we  might 
find  in  them  illustrations  of  what  you  mean  by 
the  aristocratic  principle. 

Harington.  If  I  am  to  defend  my  principle,  I 
must  defend  it  in  its  purest  and  most  ideal  form. 
I  do  not  admit,  as  I  said,  that  the  power  of  the 
governing  class  is  the  true  end  of  aristocracy. 
And  all  these  examples  you  have  been  giving,  I 
regard,  in  Aristotle's  phrase,  as  perversions  of  the 
ideal.  I  would  rather  call  them  Oligarchies  than 
Aristocracies;  though  properly,  if  the  word  had 
not  received  another  meaning,  they  should  be 
named  Dynasties. 

Martin.  Well,  no  matter  for  the  name;  the  im- 
portant point  is  the  definition.  We  have  here  a 
kind  of  polity  whose  first  principle  is  the  main- 
tenance of  the  power  of  the  governing  class ;  and 
[19] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

this  we  will  call,  if  you  like,  Oligarchy.  And  now, 
how  do  you  distinguish  from  this  your  own  ideal, 
which  you  call  Aristocracy? 

Harington.  The  principle  of  Aristocracy,  as  I 
understand  it,  is  not  the  Power  of  the  governing 
class,  but  the  Good  of  the  Whole. 
Martin.  That  will  serve  to  distinguish  it  from 
Oligarchy,  but  not  from  Democracy ;  for  Demo- 
cracy will  make  the  same  claim. 
Harington.  From  Democracy  it  is  distinguished 
by  its  recognition  of  superiority  and  inferiority. 
Martin.  In  its  institutions,  do  you  mean? 
Harington.    Yes ;    Aristocracy    is    a    polity    of 
classes.  It  has  a  governing  class,  a  fighting  class 
(if    necessary),    professional    classes,    labouring 
classes,  and  so  on. 

Martin.  So  far  it  resembles  our  own  society. 
Harington.  Yes ;  but  there  are  two  great  distinc- 
tions. Our  classes,  first,  are  not  fixed  and  definite ; 
men  may  and  do  pass  from  one  to  another.  And, 
secondly,  they  do  not  correspond  to  faculty ;  for 
there  are  many   men   in   every   occupation  who 
would  really  be  better  fitted  for  something  else. 
Martin.    The   classes,   then,   of    an   aristocracy, 
would  be  stereotyped,  and  might  more  properly 
be  called  castes? 

Harington.  Yes.  As    I    was    saying    the    other 

day,  the  general  type  of  Aristocracy  has  been 

[20] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

drawn,  once  and  for  all,  by  Plato ;  the  de- 
tails, of  course,  must  vary  according  to  time  and 
place. 

Martin.  Plato's  classes  were  hereditary.  Do  you 
accept  that? 
Harington.  Certainly. 

Martin.  And  do  you  approve  also  his  regulations 
for  the  breeding  of  citizens? 
Harington.  Some  such  regulations  there  would 
have  to  be,  if  an  ideal  Aristocracy  were  to  be 
established.  For  it  must  be  possible  to  know,  gen- 
erally speaking,  what  faculties  every  child  who 
is  born  possesses,  and  to  what  class  he  naturally 
belongs;  and  to  secure  that  in  each  class  only 
the  right  number  of  people  is  born. 
Martin.  I  see.  Your  ideal  then  is  that  of  Plato, 
a  system  of  caste,  but  one  perfectly  ordered,  so 
that  every  man  has  from  his  birth  a  function 
assigned  to  him  exactly  correspondent  to  his  fac- 
ulties, and  also  necessary  to  the  Good  of  the 
whole  community ;  that  Good,  and  not  the  partic- 
ular interest  of  the  governing  class,  being  the  end 
for  which  the  society  exists. 

Harington.  Precisely;  and  such  a  Society  Plato 
called  just,  defining  Justice  as  the  performance 
by  each  class  of  its  appropriate  function,  and  the 
absence  of  any  usurpation  of  the  functions  of 
one  by  another. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

(3)  Ochlocracy.  Martin.  You  accept,  then,  in  general,  Plato's 
account  of  Aristocracy.  And  do  you  also  endorse 
his  description  of  Democracy? 
Harington.  Yes ;  I  define  Democracy  as  the  rule 
of  the  Mass.  The  superiorities  and  inferiorities 
on  which  Aristocracy  rests  it  ignores.  Merit  it 
denies  or  suppresses.  Its  only  standard  is  num- 
bers ;  and  numbers  it  supposes  to  be  composed  of 
identical  units  which  it  calls  average  men.  It  ad- 
mits no  classes,  no  distinctions,  no  subordina- 
tion. In  its  ultimate  and  most  logical  form  it 
refers  everything  to  the  lot;  and  is  really  not  a 
polity  at  all,  but,  as  many  now  maintain,  an 
Anarchy. 

Martin.  You  follow  Plato  very  faithfully.  But 
one  thing  I  must  ask :  is  Democracy,  so  described, 
a  type  or  an  actuality  ? 

Harington.  It's  a  type,  if  you  like ;  but  it  typifies 
all  democratic  states. 

Martin.  Well,  first  let  me  get  at  the  essence  of 
the  type.  Is  it  the  denial  by  Democracy  of  all 
special  capacity,  so  that  to  any  office  it  is  as  will- 
ing to  appoint  one  person  as  another,  and  in  all 
important  decisions  prefers  to  consult  the  average 
man,  rather  than  professed  experts? 
Harington.  That  is  part  of  my  indictment ;  but 
further  I  hold  that  Democracy,  besides  denying 
superiorities  of  capacity,  denies  also  superiorities 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

of  value.  It  does  not  hold  one  object  or  activity 
to  be  intrinsically  better  than  another;  and  in 
particular  does  not  value  culture  or  art  or  science, 
except  so  far  as  science  may  be  capable  of  utili- 
tarian applications. 

Martin.  I  see.  Democracy,  in  your  view,  is  not 
only  government  by  the  mass  of  men ;  but  also  by 
a  mass  that  has  no  standards. 
Harlngton.  Yes. 

Martin.  Well,  I  do  not  deny  that  in  actual 
democracies,  so  far  as  we  have  experience  of 
them  —  and  we  have  very  little  —  there  does  ex- 
ist, among  others,  the  tendency  you  describe.  But 
a  Society  in  which  such  tendencies  really  predom- 
inated I  should  prefer  not  to  call  democratic.  I 
want  to  reserve  the  word  Democracy  for  my  ideal, 
as  you  have  the  word  Aristocracy  for  yours.  I 
will  not  therefore  accept  as  the  definition  of 
Democracy  the  rule  of  a  Mass  that  has  no  stand- 
ards. Such  a  Society  I  regard,  like  Oligarchy,  as 
the  perversion  of  an  ideal ;  and  I  propose,  if  you 
will  allow  me,  to  name  it  Ochlocracy. 
Harlngton.  Name  it  as  you  please.  But  then, 
what  is  the  ideal  which  you  would  call  demo- 
cratic? 

Martin.  I  will  come  to  that  in  a  moment.  But 
first  let  me  suggest  that  Oligarchy  and  Ochloc- 
racy are  perversions  that  mutually  engender  each 
[23] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

other.  For  when  the  standards  set  are  class- 
standards,  or  are  distorted  and  exploited  by  class- 
prejudice,  there  will  be,  naturally,  on  the  part 
of  the  mass  of  men,  a  reaction  against  all  stand- 
ards. If  culture  and  art  and  science  are  class- 
privileges,  the  odium  that  attaches  to  class  will 
attach  also  to  them;  and  those  who  are  excluded 
from  the  privilege  will  view  the  accomplishment 
itself  with  the  same  jealousy  and  hatred  which 
attaches  to  those  who  possess  it.  And  similarly,  if 
administrative  and  political  capacity  are  the  her- 
itage of  a  governing  class,  ruling  principally  in 
their  own  interests,  then  that  capacity  itself  will 
become  sinister  and  odious  to  those  who  are  its 
victims  rather  than  its  beneficiaries.  Ochlocracy, 
so  far  as  it  has  existed,  has  always  been  a  reaction 
against  Oligarchy ;  and  we  ought  not  to  make 
it  the  measure  of  the  possibilities  of  Democracy. 
Harington.  But  once  more,  what  do  you  under- 
stand by  Democracy? 

Martin.  I  am  coming  to  that  now ;  and  it  will  be 
easier  for  me  to  describe  the  ideal  now  that  we 
have  discriminated  its  perversion.  First,  Demo- 
cracy, in  my  view,  would  be  distinguished  from 
Ochlocracy  by  the  fact  that  it  would  have  stand- 
ards, and  right  standards.  On  all  important 
points  it  might  refer  the  decision  to  the  mass ; 
but  the  mass  would  be  composed  of  enlightened 
[24] 


'A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 
individuals,  not  of  ignorant,  jealous  and  small- 
minded  units.  And,  further,  while  it  would  not 
aim  at  special  capacity,  neither  would  it  ignore  it, 
but   would   endeavour   always   to   put  the   most 
capable  man  in  his  proper  place,  and  respect  and 
trust  him  according  to  his  capacity. 
Harington.  You  are  describing  something  very 
like  what  I  call  Aristocracy. 
Martin.  The  distinction,  however,  is  important. 
Aristocracy,  as  you  conceive  it,  is  hierarchic.  It 
is  divided  into  fixed  classes,  and  those  classes  are 
arranged  in  a  descending  scale,  from  the  highest, 
or  governing  class,  downward.  Its  order  is  one  of 
subordination,  of  inferior  and  superior;  so  that 
all  the  higher  functions  are  entrusted  permanently 
to  a  certain  caste,  and  the  lower  and  lowest  to 
other  castes.  That  is  your  conception,  is  it  not? 
Harington.  Yes. 

Martin.  But  in  Democracy  as  I  conceive  it,  there 
is  nothing  of  all  that.  There  would  be  different 
functions,  but  not  different  classes,  still  less  castes. 
Above  all,  there  would  be  no  governing  class, 
though  there  might  be  trained  administrative 
officials.  So  far  as  possible  all  citizens  would  re- 
ceive an  equally  high  standard  of  education,  and 
be  competent  to  perform  equally  high  functions. 
In  any  case,  difference  of  capacity  would  not 
involve  difference  of  social  rank;  and  the  princi- 
[25] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

pie  of  the  society  would  be  a  co-ordination  of 
equals  rather  than  a  subordination  of  unequals. 
Democracy,  in  a  word,  would  establish  equality 
of  status  without  identity  of  function,  and  pop- 
ular control  without  confusion  of  standards.  It 
would  thus  be  distinguished  both  from  Aristoc- 
racy and  from  Ochlocracy ;  and,  of  course,  it 
could  not  be  confused  with  Oligarchy.  Will  that 
do  for  a  first  outline? 

Harington.  Yes,  but  it  wants  a  great  deal  of 
filling  in. 

Stuart.  So,  if  I  may  say  so,  do  the  other  types 
proposed. 

^Martin.  No   doubt;  but   one  must  begin   some- 
where, and  I  have  the  pedantry  of  the  professor. 
I  like  to  proceed  methodically. 
Stuart.  Well,  go  on.  I  do  not  want  to  interrupt. 
Martin.  I  shall  try  not  to  abuse  your  patience; 
and  perhaps  the  next  step  will  interest  you  more. 
For  I  want  now  to  describe,  in  relation  to  the  four 
types  we  have  distinguished,  the  actual  society  in 
which  we  are  living,  and  around  which,  of  course, 
our  whole  interest  really  centres. 
Stuart.  Here,  then,  is  where  I  come  in. 
Martin.  You  will  come  in,  I  hope,  wherever  you 
feel  inclined. 

Stuart.  Thank  you.  Pray  then,  continue. 
Martin.  I  will  begin   by   asking   Harington   to 
[26] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

which  of  the  four  types  he  would  liken  our 
society. 

Harington.  I  should  say  it  is  in  a  transitional 
stage  between  Oligarchy  and  Ochlocracy.  In  the 
eighteenth  century  it  was  wholly  oligarchic ;  the 
landed  gentry  governed,  and  governed  in  their 
own  interest. 

Stuart.  Did  they?  I  thought  they  laid  the  foun- 
dations of  the  empire. 

Harington.  I  admit  that,  like  most  Oligarchies, 
they  were  aggressive  and  predatory.  But  they 
were  none  the  less  an  Oligarchy,  according  to 
our  definition.  For  their  fundamental  principle 
of  government  was  the  maintenance  of  their  own 
power. 

Stuart.  Yes;  and  they  deserved  the  power  they 
maintained.  They  had  an  ideal  of  personal  hon- 
our; they  had  courage,  force,  and  initiative;  and 
they  had,  what  I  should  have  thought  you  would 
value,  good  taste  and  good  manners,  and  a  respect 
for  philosophy,  art  and  science. 
Harington.  I  think  it  is  true  that  some  of  them 
had.  When  you  come  to  concrete  cases,  no  so- 
ciety can  be  expected  to  correspond  exactly  to 
any  simple  type;  and  I  should  admit  that 
most  Oligarchies  have  had  some  aristocratic  qual- 
ities. But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  position 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  everything  is  altered 
[27] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

now.  With  the  loss  of  responsibility  and  power, 
which  I  date  from  1832,  our  oligarchs,  or  aristo- 
crats, if  you  like,  have  been  losing  also  their 
character.  They  no  longer  impose  standards  of 
honour,  of  public  spirit,  or  of  taste ;  and  the  only 
people  whose  respect  they  command  are  publi- 
cans, flunkeys  and  spinsters. 

Stuart.  O  come!  You  must  in  fairness  admit 
that  some  of  our  most  capable  statesmen  are  still 
drawn  from  the  Aristocracy. 
Harington.  I  grant  it ;  but  they  are  survivals ; 
they  do  not  represent  the  real  trend  of  our  So- 
ciety. That,  I  am  sure,  is  now  ochlocratic;  for 
I  must  not,  after  Martin's  definition,  call  it  demo- 
cratic. The  principle  we  have  established,  or  are 
establishing,  is  that  of  Number.  Number  deter- 
mines the  policy  of  our  government,  the  character 
of  our  education,  the  direction  of  our  social  and 
national  ethics.  Are  we  to  be  drunk  or  sober? 
We  ask  the  majority.  Are  we  to  be  an  empire  or 
an  island-state?  We  ask  the  majority.  Are  we  to 
study  Latin  and  Greek,  or  shorthand  and  book- 
keeping? We  ask  the  majority.  Is  our  language 
to  be  a  choice  instrument  of  thought  or  a  vulgar 
and  indistinguished  dialect?  We  ask  the  majority. 
The  "  hundred  best  books,"  the  best  play  of  the 
season,  the  most  competent  soldier,  the  most  dis- 
tinguished statesman  —  all  these  points  we  refer  to 
[28] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

the  majority.  Numbers  rule  us ;  and  numbers  com- 
posed not  of  Martin's  democratic  individuals,  but 
of  the  casual,  untrained,  characterless  units  of 
Ochlocracy. 

Stuart.  I'm  sorry  to  pull  you  up,  but  that,  again, 
seems  to  me  an  exaggeration.  There  are  plenty 
of  men  of  character  left,  at  any  rate  in  Scotland. 
Martin.  Perhaps  we  have  a  few  even  in  England. 
Stuart.  Oh,  England  I  leave  to  your  tender  mer- 
cies. 

Martin.  I  am  afraid  I  can't  altogether  defend  it 
against  the  charge  of  Ochlocracy ;  but  what 
strikes  me  even  more  is  its  oligarchic  character. 
Harington  suggests  that  Oligarchy  is  disappear- 
ing ;  I  should  say  that  it  is  changing  its  form, 
from  an  Oligarchy  of  birth  to  an  Oligarchy  of 
wealth;  and  that  what  he  calls  Ochlocracy  is,  in 
part,  only  the  masque  under  which  the  trans- 
formation is  being  accomplished.  It  is  not  really 
numbers  that  rule,  but  that  which  controls  num- 
bers. And  what  is  that?  At  every  point,  wealth. 
Modern  Society,  as  I  see  it,  from  top  to  bottom,  is 
a  descending  hierarchy  of  oligarchic  groups,  each 
with  its  own  peculiar  privileges,  for  which  it 
fights  and  in  and  by  which  it  lives.  I  image  so- 
ciety as  a  pyramid,  broadening  down  from  its 
apex  in  a  series  of  steps,  each  cut  off  from  the  one 
above,  not  indeed  by  an  impassable  barrier,  but  by 
[29] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

a  height  which  it  requires  a  considerable  degree  of 
athleticism  to  scale ;  and  on  each  step,  crowded  to- 
gether, a  fighting,  trampling  mob  of  desperate 
men,  bent,  every  one,  above  all,  on  enlarging  his 
own  space  and  making  room  for  his  children, 
under  penalty,  if  he  fails,  that  he  or  they  will 
be  thrust  down  to  the  step  below,  and  perhaps, 
through  all  the  degrees,  to  the  very  bottom.  So 
that  they  are  bound,  all  of  them,  at  every  stage, 
to  make  as  difficult  as  possible  access  from  the 
stage  below,  by  maintaining  and  enhancing  the 
privileges  that  protect  their  own  area,  whether 
they  be  members  of  a  profession,  like  the  Bar,  or 
bankers,  or  University  dons,  or  skilled  artisans, 
or  whatever  it  may  be ;  —  to  maintain  and  to 
raise  the  standard  of  living  of  their  class  is  the 
chief  object,  and  to  narrow  the  gate  by  which 
outsiders  try  to  hustle  in,  by  limiting  the  number 
of  people  who  can  obtain  the  requisite  training, 
and  in  any  other  way  that  may  be  possible  dimin- 
ishing competition.  And  this  conduct,  surely,  and 
this  attitude  of  mind,  is  through  and  through  oli- 
garchic? 

Stuart.  How  violent  you  philosophers  are!  I 
hardly  recognise  in  your  description  the  decent 
orderly  society  in  which  we  all  live. 
Martin.  Nothing  is  harder  to  perceive  than  the 
element  one  breathes.  But  I  think  a  visitor  de- 
[30] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

scending  among  us  from  the  upper  air  into  these 
hollows  and  dens  where  we  live  and  have  our  being, 
would  see  and  judge  us  at  least  not  less  severely 
than  I  do.  At  any  rate,  that  the  oligarchic  ele- 
ments I  have  tried  to  disentangle  are  really  to  be 
found  among  us,  whatever  may  be  their  propor- 
tion to  the  whole, — that,  I  am  sure,  is  indisputa- 
ble. 

Harington.  I  admit  the  Oligarchy. 
Martin.  And  I  admitted  the  Ochlocracy.  But  do 
you  see  also  any  elements  that  are  aristocratic? 
Harington.  I  conceded  to  Stuart  certain  survivals 
from  an  earlier  regime.  But  these  are  rapidly  dis- 
appearing, and  do  not  really  count. 
Martin.  And  I,  on  the  other  hand,  perceive  certain 
elements  which  are  perhaps  the  beginnings  of  a 
Democracy ;  such  as  free  compulsory  education, 
and  competitive  examinations,  and  other  measures 
and  institutions  tending  to  equalise  opportunities 
and  capacities.  But  these  too  are  at  present  only 
rudiments.     And,  broadly,  I  should  be  inclined  to 
describe  our  society  as  a  fusion  of  the  two  per- 
versions, Oligarchy  and  Ochlocracy. 
Harington.  I  assent. 

Martin.  And,  in  this  fusion,  the  two  elements  en- 
gender and  intensify  one  another.  For  every 
privileged  section,  while  it  is  oligarchic  in  relation 
to  those  below  it,  is  ochlocratic  in  relation  to  those 
[31] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

above.  It  despises  and  dreads  its  inferiors,  and 
wants  to  keep  them  under;  but  of  its  superiors 
it  is  jealous  and  full  of  hate.  Those  privileges, 
it  thinks,  by  which  it  is  debarred  from  rising 
higher,  are  iniquitous  and  undeserved ;  those  only 
by  which  it  is  prevented  from  sinking  lower  are 
legitimate  and  correspond  to  merit.  Thus  every 
class,  while  it  maintains  its  own  standard,  disputes 
and  denies  the  standard  of  those  above  it.  The 
petty  jealousy  of  Ochlocracy  coexists  with  the 
narrow  egotism  of  Oligarchy;  and  these  two 
great  serpents  are  eating  one  another,  at  every 
stage,  from  top  to  bottom  of  Society. 
Stuart.  I  suppose  I  may  put  in  a  mild  protest? 
Martin.  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  was  forgetting. 
Of  course  you  do  not  agree  with  me.  Tell  me, 
then,  where  you  think  I  am  wrong. 
Stuart.  I  don't  say  you're  wrong;  I  don't  see 
how  one  can  be  wrong  or  right  in  such  a  matter. 
You  see  the  thing  from  one  angle,  and  I  from 
another.  You  regard  it  as  a  perversion  of  an 
ideal,  and  say  "  How  bad  it  is ! "  I  regard  it  as 
a  product  of  the  Real  and  say,  "  How  much  worse 
it  might  be ! "  I  don't  dispute  your  facts,  I  dis- 
pute your  emphasis. 

Martin.  And  that  dispute,  again,  goes  back  to 

the   one   we    started    with.    If   I   judge   society 

hardly,  that  is  because  I  believe  that  some  at 

[32] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

least  of  its  defects  are  due  to  conditions  which 

we   can    alter.     You   believe   the    contrary,   and 

therefore  are  more  inclined  to  leniency.  So  that 

really    it    would    be    waste    of    time    for    us    to 

develop  our  differences  at  this  point.  If  I  am  to 

convert  you  at  all,  I  must  be  able  to  show  that  by 

maintaining  certain  institutions  which  we  might 

alter,  we  perpetuate  certain  evils  which  we  might 

cure.  Do   you   agree?  And  may   I   continue   on 

those  lines? 

Stuart.  By  all  means,  do.  _ 

Martin.  What,  then,  I  will  ask  now,  are  the  really   §3-  ™ 

.       .         .,  tion  of  M 

important  institutions  r 

Stuart.  The  most  important,  I  suppose,  is  Gov- 
ernment. 

Martin.  The  political  philosophers  seem  to  think 
so,  and  perhaps  they  were  not  very  wrong,  so 
long  as  government  was  in  the  hands  of  a  King 
or  a  caste,  and  no  reform  in  institutions  could  be 
accomplished  except  by  a  political  revolution. 
Still,  even  then,  what  really  gave  its  character 
to  a  society  was  not  the  form  of  its  government, 
but  the  other  institutions  which  the  government 
supported.  And  since  government  has  become, 
more  or  less,  in  most  civilised  states,  a  reflection 
of  public  opinion,  it  grows  more  and  more  obvious 
that  it  is  not  political  but  social  institutions  that 
really  determine  the  character  of  the  community. 
[33] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  What  do  you  mean  by  social  institutions? 

Martin.  I  mean  especially  those  great  fly-wheels 

that  control  the  whole  machine,  the  institutions 

of  marriage  and  of  property. 

Stuart.  Marriage? 

Martin.  Yes;  shall  we  begin  with  that? 

Stuart.  Is  there  much  to  say  about  it? 

Martin.  Much  too  much !  Only  it  is  so  difficult  to 

say. 

Stuart.  Property,  I  can  understand,  from  your 

point  of  view,  is  important;  but  why  marriage? 

In  any  society,  I  should  have  thought,  however 

it  might  otherwise  be  constituted,  marriage  would 

be  arranged  much  as  it  is  now. 

Martin.  Possibly ;  but  it   is  not  obvious,  and  I 

want  to  consider  the  matter  freely,  as  though  it 

were  an  open  question. 

Stuart.  Well,  it  seems  curious ;  but  I  have  no 

objection. 

Martin.  What  then  is  marriage,  from  the  social 

point  of  view?    It  is  the  mechanism,  is  it  not, 

which   controls    the   production    and    rearing    of 

children  ? 

Stuart.  Yes,  I  suppose  so. 

Martin.  Its  importance  then  is  obvious ;  for  upon 

it   depend   the   number   and   the   quality    of   the 

population. 

[34] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  Yes;  but  that's  a  matter  that  must  be 
left  to  the  parents. 

Martin.  We  must  not  dismiss  the  question  so 
quickly  and  so  easily  as  that.  Whether,  in  the 
last  resort,  >t  must  be  left  to  the  parents  may  be 
considered  later.  But  some  discussion  we  must 
have  first  as  to  what  ought  to  be  aimed  at, 
whether  by  parents  or  by  public  authority. 
Stuart.  Well,  proceed. 

Martin.  And  first,  as  to  numbers.  Is  it  not  to 
you  a  very  curious  thing  that  the  pulpit  and  the 
press  and  the  politicians  always  assume,  as  though 
it  were  a  self-evident  axiom,  that  any  check  in 
the  rate  of  increase  of  population  is  an  evil,  and 
that  a  stationary  or  declining  birth-rate  means 
national  decadence? 
Stuart.  Well,  doesn't  it? 

Martin.  Not  obviously,  or  necessarily,  so  far  as 
I  can  see.  What  is  desirable,  I  suppose,  from  an 
economic  point  of  view,  is  that  measure  of  popu- 
lation which  is  most  productive,  given  the  exist- 
ing technical  and  other  conditions.  If  the  popu- 
lation is  less  or  greater  than  that,  you  get  less 
wealth  per  head.  And  if  the  disproportion  be- 
comes very  great  you  may  reach  the  starvation 
point. 

Stuart.  That  bugbear  of  Malthus  I  thought  was 
discredited. 

[35] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 
Martin.  I  do  not  believe  it  to  be  a  bugbear,  I 
believe  it  to  be  a  real  wild  beast,  that  has  devoured 
its  thousands  and  millions  in  the  past.  And  if 
we,  in  the  West,  during  the  last  century  or  so, 
owing  to  quite  exceptional  conditions,  have  been 
able  to  keep  it  at  bay,  yet  is  it  not,  even  now, 
ravaging  elsewhere?  It  looks,  at  any  rate,  as 
though  in  India  and  China  the  population  tends 
to  multiply  beyond  the  limit  of  subsistence,  and 
is  only  kept  within  it  by  the  intervention  of  fam- 
ine and  plague. 

Stuart.  That  is  because  modern  methods  of  in- 
dustry have  not  yet  been  fully  applied  in  those 
countries. 

'Martin.  Possibly ;  and  it  may  happen  —  no  one, 
I  suppose,  can  tell  —  that  we  shall  so  multiply 
and  perfect  our  means  of  controlling  nature  that 
the  danger  of  population  outstripping  subsistence 
may  become  and  remain  negligible  all  over  the 
world.  But,  even  so,  that  would  not  be  all  we 
want.  We  want,  surely,  if  society  is  to  advance 
as  we  all  desire,  a  much  higher  average  standard 
of  well-being  than  now  prevails  even  in  the  West. 
And  that,  I  suppose,  might  involve  —  I  don't 
know  whether  it  would  —  a  considerable  reduc- 
tion of  population.  The  question  is  very  techni- 
cal and  I  do  not  pretend  to  dogmatise  about  it. 
Only  I  insist  that  the  aim  of  society  should  be 
[36] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

not  a  large  population  at  all  costs,  but  the  larg- 
est compatible  with  the  highest  level  of  civilisa- 
tion throughout  the  whole  community. 
Stuart.  That  might  be  all  very  well  for  an  iso- 
lated nation ;  but  it  does  not  allow  for  the  strug- 
gle between  races.  For  example,  if  the  West 
doesn't  increase  its  population  in  the  same  pro- 
portion as  the  East,  it  is  bound  to  go  under  in 
the  competition. 

Martin.  Why?  Efficiency  in  such  contests  tells 
far  more  than  numbers.  Did  numbers  help  Russia 
or  China  to  conquer  Japan?  Do  numbers  help 
the  Indians  to  overthrow  the  British  rule?  Has 
not  a  minority  everywhere,  always,  dominated  the 
world?  Poor,  uneducated,  unintelligent  masses 
are  no  strength  to  any  community. 
Stuart.  Perhaps  not.  But  even  supposing  it  were 
desirable  to  limit  numbers,  how  do  you  propose  to 
do  it? 

Martin.  It  is   doing  itself  before   our  eyes.  In 
the   upper   and   middle    classes,   and   among   the 
more  intelligent  artisans,  parents  do  actually  now 
fix  the  number  of  children  they  will  have,  in  pro- 
portion to  their  resources.  And  so  far,  and  on 
the  face  of  it,  that  is  a  thing  to  be  commended. 
Stuart.  As  often  as  not,  I  believe,  it  is  the  result 
of  sheer  selfishness  in  the  parents. 
Martin.  There  may  be  selfish  motives  at  work,  as 
[37] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

well  as  others,  but  that  does  not  affect  the  desira- 
bility of  the  result.  And  for  my  part,  if  you 
speak  of  selfishness,  I  can  imagine  nothing  more 
selfish  than  to  bring  children  into  the  world  with- 
out any  consideration  as  to  whether  or  how  one 
will  be  able  to  provide  adequately  for  them. 
Stuart.  How  does  one  ever  know?  I  believe  those 
things  ought  to  be  left  to  settle  themselves. 
Martm.  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  pulpit ;  but  for 
my  part  I  do  not  believe  in  throwing  our  respon- 
sibilities on  Providence.  The  man  I  respect  is  the 
man  who  does  his  best  to  forecast  the  contingen- 
cies of  the  future,  especially  in  such  an  important 
matter  as  the  introduction  of  children  into  the 
world  without  their  own  consent. 
Stuart.  Well,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  it. 
Martin.  The  fact  remains  that  people  do  do  it; 
and  for  my  part  I  commend  them  for  it. 
Stuart.  But  what  is  the  consequence?  The  best 
people,  or  at  any  rate  the  most  prudent  and  far- 
sighted,  restrict  their  numbers,  and  the  poor  and 
improvident  do  not;  so  that  you  get  a  popula- 
tion continually  declining  in  quality.  That  is  the 
immediate  result  of  all  this  calculation  and  fore- 
thought ! 

Martin.  Not  of  the  calculation  and  forethought, 

but  of  the  lack  of  it  among  all  the  lower  strata 

[38] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

of  society.  The  moral,  surely,  is  that  the  practice 
of  the  upper  classes  should  be  extended  to  the 
lower.  And,  from  that  point  of  view,  is  not  the 
intervention  of  authority  to  prevent  the  spread  of 
knowledge  upon  this  subject  one  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary examples  of  interference  against  the 
public  good  which  even  the  history  of  govern- 
ments can  furnish? 

Stuart.  That  follows,  I  suppose,  from  your  argu- 
ment. But  this  whole  business  of  limiting  families 
remains  revolting  to  me. 

Martin.  I  understand  your  feeling.  But,  really, 
have  we  any  right  to  indulge  our  feelings  in  the 
matter?  It  is  the  welfare  of  children  and  of  the 
community  that  is  at  stake.  And  surely,  from 
that,  the  most  important  point  of  view,  we  ought 
to  welcome  the  widest  possible  diffusion  among 
parents  of  a  sense  of  responsibility  and  of  a 
knowledge  of  how  to  make  the  responsibility  ef- 
fective ? 

Stuart.  You  can't  guarantee  that  the  knowledge 
will  not  be  misused,  as  it  clearly  often  is,  to  evade 
the  responsibilities  of  parentage. 
Martin.  All  knowledge  is  a  double-edged  tool; 
but  we  have  no  other.  And  I  think  you  would 
really  agree  that  we  must  spread  light  and  take 
the  risks. 

[39] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

(3)  On  regu-  Stuart.  I  suppose  so.  But,  at  best,  what  know- 
latiny  the  ledge  have  we  to  spread?  Far  more  important,  I 
quality  of  SUppose,  than  the  number  of  the  population  is  its 
the  popu-  quality.  From  the  point  of  view  we  are  now  tak- 
lation.  ing?  marriages  clearly,  I  suppose,  ought  to  be 

arranged  with  a  view  to  the  excellence  of  the  chil- 
dren who  are  to  be  born  of  them.  But  even  if  we 
wished  it,  could  we  effectively  do  anything  of 
the  kind?  Do  we  know  how? 

Martin.  The  first  condition  of  acquiring  know- 
ledge is  to  desire  it.  And  on  this  point  society, 
I  think,  has  never  really  desired  it.  The  ancient 
world,  it  is  true,  cared  more  about  the  question 
than  the  modern  world  has  done  up  to  now.  Their 
thinkers  were  well  aware  that  the  main  determi- 
nant in  the  marriage  relation  ought  to  be  the 
quality  of  the  offspring;  and  they  had  methods, 
very  rough  and  ready  no  doubt,  of  trying  to  at- 
tain the  object.  Christianity  and  the  Middle  Ages 
meant  a  retrogression  in  this  as  in  so  many  other 
matters.  And  though  the  writers  of  the  Renais- 
sance revived  the  idea,  it  has  never  influenced  the 
minds  of  the  mass  of  men. 

Stuart.  Would  men,  in  any  case,  ever  allow  in- 
stitutions to  interfere  in  such  a  matter? 
'Martin.  They  have  always  allowed  them  to  inter- 
fere, and  to   interfere  drastically.    But  the  ex- 
[40] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

traordinary  thing  is  —  it  really  is  extraordinary 
when  you  come  to  reflect  upon  it  —  that  the  re- 
strictions imposed  do  not  seem  commonly  to  have 
had  any  reference  to  the  most  important  purpose 
served  by  marriage.  They  have  sometimes  been 
suggested  by  the  customs  or  laws  of  the  devolu- 
tion of  property,  sometimes  apparently  by  pure 
superstitions  to  us  quite  unintelligible,  sometimes 
by  a  kind  of  metaphysical  logic ;  but  I  doubt 
whether  they  have  ever  been  framed  with  a  view 
to  the  production  of  the  best  children ;  and  many 
of  them  probably  could  not  be  maintained  on 
that  ground  even  though  they  may  be  otherwise 
desirable.  The  much  debated  question  of  mar- 
riage with  a  deceased  wife's  sister  is  only  one  ex- 
ample of  what  I  mean. 
Stuart.  It's  curious. 

Martin.  It  really  is  very  curious.  I  doubt  whether 
anyone,  if  he  were  challenged  offhand,  could  say 
what  the  reasons  are  for  the  prohibitions  we  now 
accept  without  question.  There  may  be  very  good 
reasons,  in  some  cases  clearly  there  are.  But  it  is 
a  remarkable  testimony  to  our  lack  of  reflexion 
on  these  subjects  that  our  rules  are  never  re- 
vised, or  even  challenged,  except  in  the  one 
instance  I  have  just  mentioned.  And  while  we 
thus  unquestioningly  accept  certain  prohibitions 
[41] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

because  they  are  traditional,  we  have  hardly  be- 
gun to  ask  ourselves  whether  there  are  not  others 
far  more  important  which  we  ought  to  introduce. 
Criminals,  lunatics,  syphilitic  and  phthisical  peo- 
ple, any  and  every  one  may  marry,  so  long  as 
they  are  without  the  prohibited  degrees,  and  may 
produce  as  many  children  as  they  like,  without 
any  consideration  as  to  whether  or  no  they  are 
handing  on  to  posterity  their  own  vices  and  dis- 
eases. 

Stuart.  That  is,  ro  doubt,  very  regrettable;  but 
I  don't  see  how  you  can  stop  it. 
Martin.  The  conditions  of  stopping  it  are  first, 
knowledge,  and  secondly,  will ;  or,  perhaps  I  should 
say,  first,  will,  and  secondly,  knowledge.  If  so- 
ciety is  to  progress,  this,  I  believe,  is  one  of  the 
problems  with  which  it  must  be  most  preoccupied ; 
and  with  the  development  of  knowledge  we  may 
expect  that  there  will  come  a  development  in  the 
institution  of  marriage  on  the  lines  of  prohibit- 
ing, whether  by  law  or  opinion  or  both,  unions 
which  it  is  known  will  result  in  bad  offspring, 
and  encouraging  those  which  will  result  in  good. 
That,  at  any  rate,  is  a  cautious  statement;  and 
so  far,  I  hope,  I  have  carried  you  with  me? 
Stuart.  I  don't  object  to  the  suggestion,  but  it's 
altogether  impracticable.  Men  will  never  submit 
to  any  interference  in  such  matters. 
[42] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  On  the  contrary,  there  has  never  yet 
been  a  Society  in  which  people  have  not  submitted 
to  the  extreme  of  interference,  if  not  by  law  then 
by  opinion.  In  savage  societies  innumerable  re- 
strictions on  marriage,  to  modern  inquirers  mean- 
ingless and  unintelligible,  are  constantly  found 
to  exist  and  to  be  effectually  enforced;  and  in 
civilised  communities  such  considerations  as  rank 
and  property  have  always  been,  and  still  often 
are,  paramount  in  the  formation  of  unions.  In 
how  many  countries,  and  in  how  many  families, 
is  a  woman  really  free  to  accept  or  reject  a  hus- 
band? In  how  many,  really,  does  a  man  choose 
his  wife  simply  on  the  score  of  his  inclination? 
And  if  all  these  social  and  family  restrictions, 
often  stupid  or  merely  egoistic,  can  be  success- 
fully imposed,  is  it  unreasonable  to  hope  that  an 
intelligent  Society  would  submit  to  regulations 
known  and  understood  to  be  made  in  the  public 
interest? 

Stuart.  But  even  granting  that  the  restrictions 
might  be  made  effective,  I  see  all  sorts  of  other 
difficulties.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  so  hard  to  say 
what  you  want  to  breed  for.  Do  you  want,  for 
instance,  a  number  of  narrowly  specialised  types, 
some  intellectual,  some  physical,  and  so  on,  or  do 
you  want  a  high  average  type? 
Martin.  The  answer  to  that  question  must  de- 
[43] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

pend  on  the  kind  of  Society  you  have  in  view,  a 
point  to  which  we  shall  come  directly.  But 
meantime,  in  any  case,  we  may  surely  say  this 
much,  that  even  if  it  were  hard  to  determine  what 
types  should  be  included,  it  should  not  be  hard 
to  determine  what  should  be  ruled  out.  When 
disease,  mental  or  physical,  is  known  to  be  hered- 
itary, then,  at  least,  the  begetting  and  bearing  of 
children  should  be  forbidden.  For  even  that  small 
beginning  we  should  be  thankful;  and  from  it 
much  might  follow  as  experience  developed  and 
ideals  became  clearer. 

Stuart.  Well,  let  us  grant  that,  if  you  like.  But 
still  there  is  the  further  difficulty  which  we  have 
already  touched  upon,  that  even  if  we  knew  what 
to  breed  for,  we  don't  know  how  to  do  it.  The 
Ancients,  as  I  understand  from  what  you  said, 
made  a  great  point  of  regulating  marriage  with 
a  view  to  good  offspring;  but  did  they  have  any 
satisfactory  notion  as  to  the  means  whereby  the 
end  can  be  attained? 

Martin.  They  had  a  kind  of  rough  empiricism 
which  satisfied  them  more  easily,  no  doubt,  than 
it  should  have  done ;  though  there  was  more  hope 
of  progress  in  their  attitude  than  in  our  own, 
because  they  did  at  least  recognise  that  the 
end  was  one  which  Society  ought  to  keep 
in  view,  even  if  they  were  ignorant  as  to  the 
[44] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

means ;  whereas  we  do  not  even  admit  the  end. 
Only  in  quite  recent  years  have  a  few  bold  men, 
like  Francis  Galton,  ventured  to  assert  the  impor- 
tance of  breeding  for  a  good  stock,  and  initiated 
the  inquiries  that  may  lead  to  knowledge  on  the 
subject.  But  I,  for  my  part,  have  sufficient  faith 
in  science  to  believe  that  once  men  really  want  to 
do  the  thing,  they  will  find  out  how  to  do  it.  The 
advance  of  science  is  due  as  much  to  a  favourable 
social  environment  as  to  individual  genius  and 
patience;  and  once  our  idle  and  pernicious  preju- 
dice is  broken  down,  that  the  production  of  child- 
ren is  a  private  and  irresponsible  function,  we 
may  hope  that  along  with  the  desire  to  find  the 
true  method  of  breeding,  will  be  developed  also 
the  necessary  knowledge. 

Stuart.  Even  that  I  will  admit  to  be  possible, 
though  I  think  the  possibility  very  remote.  But 
I  have  still  another  point  which  I  am  half  afraid 
to  introduce  into  this  grave  discussion.  Still,  I'm 
a  Scot,  and  all  Scots  are  at  heart  sentimentalists ; 
and  what  I  want  to  know  is  this.  In  proportion 
as  it  becomes  the  custom  or  the  law  that  mar- 
riages shall  be  arranged  exclusively  with  reference 
to  the  likelihood  of  good  offspring,  the  practice 
of  marrying  for  love,  I  suppose,  must  decline. 
What  then  —  you  will  think  the  question  very 
trifling, —  what  is  to  happen  to  love? 
[45] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  A  trifling  question  do  you  expect  me  to 
think  it?  As  though  anything  could  be  trifling 
which  deals  with  love !  If  indeed,  by  love  you 
mean  that  unaccountable  passion,  of  all  things 
the  most  mysterious,  the  most  terrible,  and  the 
most  divine,  whereby  bodies  and  souls  are  drawn 
to  one  another  in  defiance  of  all  other  affinities,  be 
they  interests  or  occupations  or  convictions,  by 
an  impulse  so  profound  that  it  seems  to  have  its 
source  beyond  the  portals  of  life,  so  imperative 
that  it  overrides  every  other  tie,  so  instinctive  that 
it  sweeps  Reason  like  dust  before  its  onset.  You 
mean,  I  suppose,  the  Eros  of  the  Greeks,  the  ir- 
resistible god,  not  Cupid  or  Venus  nor  any  of 
the  lighter  loves  with  which  a  man  may  dally  but 
to  which,  if  he  is  wise  and  sane,  he  will  not  suc- 
cumb ? 

Stuart.  I  mean  any  kind  of  personal  attraction, 
such  as  commonly  precedes  and  leads  on  to  mar- 
riage. 

Martin.  But  such  attractions,  as  they  are  com- 
monly felt,  are  not  so  fatally  and  irretrievably 
fixed  on  a  single  person  that  they  may  not  be 
diverted,  without  serious  trouble  or  loss,  if 
their  first  object  should  prove,  for  some  reason 
or  another,  to  be  unattainable.  Most  men,  and 
most  women,  are  capable  are  they  not,  of  "  fall- 
ing in  love,"  as  it  is  called,  with  a  considerable 
[46] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

number  of  people ;  and  it  would  be  hard  if,  in  a 
well-ordered  society,  it  were  not  as  practicable  as 
it  is  in  our  own,  to  combine  this  kind  of  love  with 
marriage.  For  even  now,  as  we  agreed,  most,  or 
at  least  very  many  marriages  are  determined  by, 
other  considerations,  primarily,  than  those  of  pas- 
sion; and  these,  experience  shows,  are  not  the 
least  happy  unions.  The  love  that  is  important 
for  marriage  is  rather  that  which  conies  after 
than  that  which  precedes,  the  sincere  and  sober 
affection  which  results  from  a  common  life  and 
common  responsibilities. 

Stuart.  That  may  be  all  very  true,  but  it  doesn't 
meet  my  difficulty.  There  is  a  kind  of  love  which 
is  important  for  its  own  sake,  and  ought  not  to 
be  subordinated  to  any  other  purpose.  When 
people  feel  that  passion,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  the 
union  that  they  want  to  unite.  If  children  result, 
that  is  a  mere  accident  from  the  point  of  view  of 
their  purpose;  and  whether  or  no  children  result, 
and  whatever  the  quality  of  the  children,  the 
union  is  a  thing  demanded  by  their  personality, 
and  its  prohibition  is  the  greatest  and  most  unen- 
durable of  tyrannies. 

Martin.  You  touch  a  point  of  real  difficulty,  not 
only  for  an  imaginary  society,  but  for  any  which 
actually  exists.  For  though  I  believe  that,  in 
most  cases,  such  love  as  people  are  capable  of 
[47] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

feeling  is  readily  enough  diverted  into  chan- 
nels where  it  may  find  its  satisfaction  in  matri- 
mony, yet  I  admit  the  exceptions,  and  they  may 
be  of  a  kind  which,  whatever  the  order  of  Society, 
must  inevitably  lead  to  tragedy.  There  is  such  a 
thing  as  the  great  passion,  the  passion  of  the 
poets  and  of  Plato ;  though  it  is,  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  much  rarer  than  is  commonly  supposed.  It 
is  often  confused,  by  sentimental  men  and  women, 
with  the  mere  yearnings  of  unsatisfied  desire ;  but 
when  it  exists  it  is,  and  it  should  be,  sole  and  in- 
disputable lord  of  those  whom  it  inspires.  But  be- 
ing, of  all  the  powers  of  the  world,  the  most  ca- 
pricious and  irrational,  it  may  easily  fasten  upon 
objects  of  pursuit  the  most  unattainable,  or,  from 
some  other  point  of  view,  the  most  undesirable. 
Not  only  may  it  meet  with  no  return  where  it  has 
fixed  its  desires,  but  a  thousand  obstacles,  ap- 
proved by  reason,  may  intervene  to  bar  the  union 
it  seeks.  That  is  so,  and  always  has  been  so,  in 
actual  societies,  as  is  witnessed  by  all  the  tragedies 
of  love.  And  it  need  not  be  more  so,  though  I  will 
not  say  it  would  be  less,  in  the  better  ordered  com- 
munity we  are  imagining.  For  the  only  test 
such  a  community  would  impose  would  concern 
the  fitness  of  the  pair  to  produce  offspring.  If 
that  test  were  passed  there  might  result  that  rarest 
and  sweetest  of  all  relationships,  where  a  strong 
[48] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

personal  passion  is  perpetuated  and  reinforced  by 
a  joint  participation  in  the  chances  of  life  and  the 
care  of  children.  But  even  if  that  were  forbidden, 
the  pair  might  live  their  life  together,  in  a  rela- 
tionship beautiful,  faithful,  and  profound  even 
if  not  perfect.  The  society  I  am  imagining  would 
indeed  be  more,  not  less  free  than  our  own; 
for  its  public  opinion  would  be  more  tolerant  and 
more  sane.  It  is  not  love  but  parentage  that 
would  be  restricted ;  and  that  only  in  the  well- 
understood  and  reasonable  interest  of  the  com- 
munity. And  ought  such  restraint  really  to  be 
regarded  as  a  tyranny? 

Stuart.  Perhaps  it  ought  not,  but  I  think  it  would 
be. 

Martin.  Well,  I  must  be  satisfied  with  that;  and 
now,  perhaps,  we  may  return  to  the  point  you 
raised,  and  I  postponed,  as  to  what  kind  of  types 
we  ought  to  breed  for.  I  postponed  it  because  it 
is  one  on  which,  I  imagine,  Harington  and  I  must 
disagree ;  and  I  wanted  first  to  get  out  conclusions 
which  I  supposed  would  be  common  to  us  both.  I 
don't  know  whether  I  have  succeeded;  Harington 
has  been  very  silent. 

Harington.  I  don't  think  I  have  dissented  on  any 
important  point.  But  I  confess  that  I  have  been 
rather  distracted  with  considering  how  I  should 
arrange  this  matter  in  an  Aristocracy. 
[49] 


(5)  On  the 
breeding 
of  types 
in  an  Aris- 
tocracy. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  Well,  we  are  now  coming  to  that.  And 
that  we  may  isolate  the  problem,  I  must  ask  Stuart 
to  permit  me  the  preposterous  assumption  that  we 
have  the  knowledge  and  the  will  to  breed  for  what 
types  we  choose,  and  that  the  only  real  question 
is  what  types  we  do  choose. 

Stuart.  If  you  admit  that  the  assumption  is  pre- 
posterous I  am  content  to  let  you  make  it. 
Martin.  Well  then,  we  can  start.  And  I  shall  ask 
Harington,  who  has  been  meditating  on  the  sub- 
ject all  this  time,  what  an  Aristocracy  would 
breed  for. 

Harington.  I  see  no  way  out  of  the  conclusion 
that  it  must  breed  for  specialised  quality.  Its 
form  being,  as  we  defined  it,  a  hierarchy  of  fixed 
classes,  where  function  corresponds  to  aptitude,  it 
wrould  endeavour  to  secure  that  each  class  should 
reproduce  the  proper  number  of  its  own  kind,  ar- 
tisans artisans,  traders  traders,  rulers  rulers, 
and  so  on. 

Martin.  On  this  point,  too,  then,  you  follow 
Plato? 

Harington.  Logic  compels  me.  But  what  has 
been  troubling  me  is,  that  I  cannot  dismiss,  as  he 
did,  the  whole  of  the  working-class  as  hardly  de- 
serving the  attention  of  a  philosopher.  I  imagine 
myself  dealing  with  a  complex  industrial  organ- 
isation of  the  modern  type,  and  that  forces  upon 
[50] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

me  the  question  whether,  if  such  an  organisation 
were  aristocratically  controlled,  specialisation  in 
breeding  would  not  have  to  be  as  minute  as  spe- 
cialisation in  industry. 

Martin.  You  mean  you  would  have  to  breed  one 
class,  say,  for  folding  paper,  another  for  stitch- 
ing, another  for  pasting,  and  so  on ;  or  one  for 
each  of  the  processes  that  go  to  make  a  pin,  and 
so  throughout? 

Harington.  That's  the  kind  of  thing.  Of  course 
I  don't  really  think  that,  even  in  an  Aristocracy, 
specialisation  need  be  as  minute  as  that.  Still,  if 
my  fundamental  condition  is  to  be  carried  out,  and 
function  is  to  correspond  exactly  to  aptitude,  the 
specialisation  of  types  will  be,  at  any  rate,  rather 
complicated. 

Martin.  I  think  it  will.  And  for  that  reason, 
among  others,  perhaps  an  aristocratic  organisa- 
tion would  be  less  well  suited  to  a  community  of 
the  modern  type  than  to  the  Platonic  City-State. 
However,  it  would  be  pedantic  to  press  you  for 
details.  I  understand  that  the  ideal  of  Aristo- 
cracy is  specialisation,  and  that  it  would  aim  no- 
where at  a  complete  man,  but  everywhere  at  men 
with  some  peculiar  and  perhaps  very  minute  apti- 
tude? 

Harington.  Some  at  least  of  its  citizens  would  be 

much  more  complete  than  are  to  be  met  with  in 

[51] 


(6)  On  the 
breeding 
of  types 
in  a  De- 
mocracy. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

actual  societies.  The  higher  the  class,  the  wider 
and  the  more  human  would  be  its  activity ;  and 
the  class  of  rulers,  like  Plato's  philosophers, 
would  embrace  the  whole  range  of  knowledge  and 
accomplishment,  being  at  once  statesmen,  think- 
ers and  artists,  or  at  least  connoisseurs. 
Martin.  I  understand.  At  the  top  of  Society 
would  be  men  so  complete,  in  character  and  mind, 
as  to  realise  the  whole  range  of  the  human  ideal ; 
and  at  the  bottom  men  of  the  most  minutely  spe- 
cialised aptitudes  and  outlooks.  The  upper  classes 
would  be  greater  and  nobler  than  they  are  among 
us;  and  the  lower  smaller  and  more  ignoble? 
Harington.  If  the  latter  were  possible ! 
Martin.  Perhaps  it  might  not  only  be  possible, 
but  necessary  to  the  aristocratic  ideal.  But  now,  to 
contrast  with  this  the  ideal  of  Democracy.  Demo- 
cracy, as  I  conceive  it,  would  breed  not  for  special- 
isation, but  for  a  high  average  of  capacity. 
Harington.  But  occupations  must  surely  be  spe- 
cialised as  much  in  Democracy  as  in  Aristocracy. 
Martin.  Not  so  much,  or  so  rigidly,  I  think.  In- 
deed, it  might  be  the  aim  of  the  society  to  en- 
courage as  much  variation  of  employment  as 
would  be  compatible  with  efficiency.  But  in  any 
case,  the  Democracy  I  conceive  would  not  aim 
at  specialised  faculty,  it  would  aim  at  the  all- 
round  man.  For  it  would  hold  that  work  is  for 
[52] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

the  sake  of  life,  not  life  for  the  sake  of  work,  and 
that  the  best  part  of  life  is  not  that  which  is  spent 
in  necessary,  but  often  uncongenial  and  narrow- 
ing, vork,  but  that  which  is  employed  at  will  in 
free  leisure.  My  Democracy,  then,  would  breed 
for  general  ability,  such  as  could  turn  readily  to 
anything  and  perform  anything  efficiently.  The 
complete  man,  as  opposed  to  the  specialist,  would 
be  its  aim;  and  its  task,  I  think,  for  that  reason 
would  be  easier  than  that  of  Aristocracy,  because 
what  it  would  mainly  have  to  do  would  be  to 
eliminate  the  unfit,  a  far  simpler  problem  than 
that  of  positively  creating  an  indefinite  number  of 
highly  specialised  t3rpes. 

Harington.  I  admit  that,  when  one  comes  to  work 
it  out,  this  business  of  breeding  seems  the  most 
paradoxical  element  in  an  Aristocracy. 
Martin.  My  own  idea  is  that,  apart  from  all  prac- 
tical difficulties,  it  is  the  rock  upon  which  Aris- 
tocracy as  an  ideal  goes  to  pieces.  But  that  point 
we  will  leave  till  the  time  has  come  to  compare  our 
positions.  Meantime,  from  this  rather  inconclusive 
discussion,  it  does  seem  to  emerge  that  if  ever 
there  is  to  be  a  well-ordered  community  it  must 
learn  to  control  its  population,  whether  by  law  or 
by  opinion,  or  in  whatever  way  may  be  most 
effective;  and  that  the  existing  haphazard  ar- 
rangements are  altogether  unsatisfactory,  even 
[53] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

though,  because  of  our  ignorance  and  our  preju- 
dices, they  may  be  at  present  inevitable.  And, 
further,  it  is  clear,  I  think,  that  the  kind  of  type 
for  which  a  society  having  the  requisite  will  and 
knowledge  should  breed,  will  be  determined  by  its 
general  ideal.  So  that  a  criticism  of  ideals  has  a 
very  real  and  practical  significance.  Will  even 
Stuart  go  so  far  with  us? 

Stuart.  Yes.   So  long  as  you  remain  in  the  air  I 
have  no  difficulty  in  following  you. 
'Martin.  It  is  most  desirable,  then,  that  we  should 
continue  to  fly.  But  I  am  afraid  that  will  be  more 
difficult  in  pursuing  the  very  pedestrian  subject 
to  which  we  must  now  turn  in  order. 
Stuart.  That  is  property,  I  suppose. 

.  The  Institvr-  'Martin.  Yes,  property,  that  august  and  vener- 

tion  of  able  institution,  on  which  I  almost  fear  to  lay 

Property.        profane  hands,  so  sacred  is  it,  so  powerful  and  so 

revered.  For  is  it  not  a  god,  the  only  one  left 

upon  earth;  and  is  not  the  law  its  temple,  which 

it  is  sacrilege  to  profane? 

Stuart.  You  are  wasting  your  irony  upon  me ;  I 
am  not  to  be  provoked. 

Martin.  And  yet  there  is  a  look  in  your  eye  which 
warns  me  to  go  carefully.  However,  I  cannot  turn 
back ;  and  so,  to  give  myself  courage  and  to  pro- 
pitiate you,  I  will  begin  by  reminding  us  both  of 
the  extraordinary  importance  of  this  institution, 
[54] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

and  the  absolute  necessity  laid  upon  us  to  deal 
courageously  with  it. 

Stuart.  I  do  not  need  convincing  of  that. 
Martin.  Let  me,  nevertheless,  set  it  out  in  form. 
Stuart.  Proceed  then. 

Martin.  Marriage,  we  saw,  determines  the  orig- 
inal character  and  aptitude  of  the  citizen;  but 
property  determines  his  opportunities.  And  the 
two  together,  so  far  as  social  factors  are  con- 
cerned, determine  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 
Whether  a  man  must  work,  whether  he  is  to  be 
permitted  to  work,  or  whether  he  is  to  be  dispensed 
from  the  necessity  of  working ;  and  again,  at  what 
he  is  to  work,  whether  at  manual  labour  or  at  one 
of  the  professions,  whether  at  a  skilled  or  an  un- 
skilled employment,  whether  at  an  art,  or  a  handi- 
craft, or  a  mechanical  routine ;  all  this  is  governed 
by  the  amount  of  property  owned  by  his  parents 
or  himself.  And  again,  the  remuneration  he  is  to 
receive  for  his  labour  is  fixed  by  the  same  condi- 
tion. Either  he  has  access  to  well-paid  or  to  ill- 
paid  work;  and  the  access,  though  it  depends 
partly  on  natural  capacity,  depends  still  more,  in 
practice,  on  opportunity.  Broadly  speaking,  the 
sons  of  the  rich  remain  rich,  and  the  sons  of  the 
poor  remain  poor,  though  of  course  the  excep- 
tions are  numerous  and  important.  So  that  the 
whole  system  of  classes  in  any  society  is  determined 
[55] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

by  the  institution  of  property  interacting  with 
the  institution  of  marriage.  Are  there  idle 
classes?  Are  there  criminal  classes?  Are  there 
classes  of  unemployed  and  unemployable?  Are 
there  classes  living  at  the  verge  of  starvation, 
and  liable,  at  the  least  disturbance,  to  be  shaken 
down  among  the  paupers  or  the  criminals?  Are 
there  others  so  rich  that  their  whole  life  is  one 
long  process  of  demoralisation  both  of  themselves 
and  of  those  with  whom  they  come  into  contact? 
For  all  this,  the  institution  of  property  is  respon- 
sible. And  upon  these  factors,  again,  depends  the 
whole  order  of  the  society,  its  stability  or  in- 
stability, its  progress  or  stagnation,  its  harmony 
or  its  dissonance.  So  that,  one  may  fairly  say, 
the  character  of  any  community  is  completely  de- 
termined, in  all  essential  points,  by  the  joint 
operation  of  the  institutions  of  marriage  and 
property. 

Stuart.  You  seem  to  attribute  to  the  institution 
of  property  a  great  deal  which  I  should  attribute 
to  the  activities  of  men. 

Martin.  Because  these  activities  are  limited  and 
defined  in  their  scope  and  results  by  the  institu- 
tion. If,  for  example,  a  man  inherits  wealth,  that 
is  because  of  the  law  of  property ;  and  if  he  did 
not  inherit,  his  whole  life  would  be  different.  If 
again,  he  lives  upon  rent,  that  is  because  of  the 
[56] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

law  of  property ;  and  if  all  rent  belonged  to  the 
community,  his  whole  life  would  be  different.  It 
is  the  law  that  determines  in  what  things  there 
shall  be  property,  and  under  what  conditions; 
whether  property  may  be  transferred  and  under 
what  forms.  And  to  those  rules  the  whole  activity 
of  society  adjusts  itself. 
Stuart.  But  those  rules  are  necessary. 
Martin.  In  what  sense?  They  have  come  to  seem 
to  us  necessary  because  we  are  used  to  them.  But 
are  they  necessary  in  themselves? 
Stuart.  When  I  call  them  necessary,  I  mean  that, 
in  my  belief,  they  are  the  only  rules  that  will 
work. 

Martin.  I  am  not  prepared  to  admit  that.  I  agree 
however,  of  course,  that  our  rules  do  work,  only 
they  seem  to  me  to  work  very  curiously. 
Stuart.  How  so? 

Martin.  I  am  going  to  explain.  Broadly  speak- 
ing there  are  two  things  which  are  governed  by 
the  law  of  property, —  interacting  always,  as  we 
presuppose,  with  the  law  of  marriage.  The  first 
is  the  distribution  of  labour  among  the  members 
of  the  community ;  the  second,  the  distribution  of 
the  products  of  labour.  These  two  points,  of 
course,  are  intimately  connected ;  for,  so  far  as  a 
choice  is  open,  that  kind  of  labour  will  tend  to  be 
chosen  which  provides  the  highest  remuneration. 
[57] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Still,  it  will  be  convenient  for  our  purpose  to  take 
them  separately. 

(1)  The   dis-      Stuart.  How  do  you  mean  that  the  distribution 
tribution       of  labour  is  determined  by  the  law  of  property? 
of  labour      Martin.  I  mean  only  the  obvious  fact,  that  the 
i»  Existing  labour  which  is  best  remunerated  and  most  cov- 
Society.        eted,  that  of  the  professions  and  of  the  higher 
posts  in  business,  is  far  more  accessible,  if  not  ex- 
clusively accessible,  to  the  sons  of  the  rich  and  of 
the  well-to-do  than  to  others.  It  requires,  to  begin 
with,  an  elaborate  and  expensive  education ;  and 
even  if  that  be  dispensed  with,  relationship  and 
social    connexion    count    for    much.  Those    who 
have  means  are  more  or  less  sharply  cut  off  from 
those  who  have  not;  they  have  among  one  an- 
other  a   kind   of   freemasonry ;   and   they    natu- 
rally incline,  wherever  they  can,  to  confer  lucra- 
tive and  interesting  posts,  if  not  upon  their  own 
immediate   relations    and   friends,   at   least   upon 
members  of  their  own  class. 

Stuart.  I  think  you  exaggerate  that  tendency. 
In  business,  at  any  rate,  men  are  always  rising 
from  the  bottom  to  the  top. 

Martin.  They  do  rise,  no  doubt;  but  in  what 
numbers  and  in  what  percentage?  Exceptional 
ability,  even  where  opportunity  is  scanty,  will,  I 
freely  admit,  make  a  career  for  itself  even  in  Eu- 
rope, and  still  more  in  new  countries.  But  for  the 
[58] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

ordinary  man  of  average  powers,  it  is  oppor- 
tunity that  determines  his  fate;  and  opportunity 
is  the  monopoly  of  the  well-to-do.  It  follows  that 
since  the  well-to-do  are  a  small  minority,  the  great 
mass  of  men  are  predestined  to  the  less  inter- 
esting, more  laborious,  and  worse  remunerated 
kinds  of  labour.  Normally,  the  sons  of  manual 
labourers  become  manual  labourers,  or,  at  best,  or 
worst,  clerks ;  the  sons  of  clerks,  clerks ;  the  sons 
of  shop-keepers,  shop-keepers,  and  so  on,  up  the 
scale.  Or,  if  the  son  does  not  actually  follow  his 
father's  occupation,  he  follows  one  of  similar 
grade,  or,  perhaps,  one  grade  higher  or  lower. 
If  the  son  of  a  waiter  becomes  a  barrister,  or  the 
son  of  a  gardener  a  physician,  that  is  a  matter  for 
surprise  and  comment.  Our  society  in  effect,  and 
subject,  I  admit,  to  numerous  exceptions,  is  a  so- 
ciety of  hereditary  classes ;  and  it  is  so  because  of 
the  institution  of  property. 

Stuart.  The  institution  of  property  is  a  very 
vague  phrase.  What  exact  point  in  our  system 
are  you  attacking? 

Martin.  Clearly  the  point  in  question  here  is  the 
law  of  inheritance  and  bequest.  If  the  property 
of  the  father  did  not  normally  descend  to  the  son, 
little  if  little,  and  much  if  much,  then,  though 
there  might  be  a  stratification  of  society,  the 
stratification  would  not  be  hereditary.  Every- 
[59] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

body  might  then  start  with  more  or  less  equal 
opportunities ;  and  the  position  reached  would  be 
really  determined  in  each  case  by  natural  apti- 
tude. 

Stuart.  I  don't  see  how  that  could  be  worked  out. 
Martin.  It  is  not  my  present  business  to  say  how 
it  might  be  worked  out,  but  to  point  out  the  ef- 
fects of  the  existing  arrangement.  It  results,  you 
will  perhaps  agree,  broadly  speaking,  in  a  society 
of  hereditary  classes.  And  so  far  we  have  some- 
thing like  Harington's  Aristocracy. 
Harington.  I  protest.  The  distinction  is  far 
more  important  than  the  resemblance.  For  in  an 
Aristocracy,  as  I  defined  it,  the  classes  would  cor- 
respond to  aptitudes.  The  carpenter  would  have 
the  carpenter's  talent,  the  mason  the  mason's,  the 
clerk  the  clerk's,  the  physician  the  physician's, 
and  so  on,  up  to  the  governing  class.  Each  citi- 
zen would  really  be  fitted,  and  feel  himself  to  be 
fitted,  exactly  for  that  work  which  he  had  to  per- 
form. All  faculties  would  be  employed  to  the  best 
advantage,  both  for  the  individual  and  for  the 
whole ;  so  that  the  society  would  be  as  efficient  and 
the  members  as  contented,  as  it  is  possible  to  con- 
ceive. Whereas  with  us,  all  this  is  different.  A 
man's  position  is  not  determined  only  by  his  apti- 
tude, but  also,  and  often  more,  by  his  fortune. 
He  may  have  a  genius  for  pure  mathematics,  for 
[60] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

medicine,  or  for  art,  and  yet  be  compelled  to  work 
as  an  unskilled  labourer ;  or  he  may  have  no  talent 
save  his  physical  strength,  and  yet  be  a  legislator 
in  the  House  of  Lords.  His  course  of  life  is  fixed 
by  the  position  of  his  parents ;  and  no  machinery 
exists  to  adjust  it  to  his  capacities. 
Stuart.  Surely  that  is  a  great  exaggeration. 
After  all,  I  do  not  know  that  natural  aptitude  is 
very  much  specialised.  My  experience  suggests 
to  me  that  any  man  of  average  ability  can  do  de- 
cently well  almost  any  kind  of  work;  the  men  of 
genius  ear-marked  for  this  or  that  pursuit  are,  I 
believe,  very  rare. 

Martin.  Even  if  that  be  true  —  and  how  true  it 
is  we  are  not  in  a  position,  I  admit,  to  decide  — 
it  does  not  alter  Harington's  contention.  For  if 
we  are  to  suppose  most  men  to  have  a  more  or  less 
equal  all-round  ability,  then  the  selection  of  cer- 
tain of  them  to  perform  the  higher  kinds  of  work, 
and  of  the  great  majority  to  perform  the  lower,  is 
all  the  more  clearly  determined  by  the  caprice  of 
fortune,  that  is  by  the  standing  of  their  parents, 
not  by  any  ratiojial  principle  of  equity  or  of  effi- 
ciency. But  in  fact,  even  if  natural  ability  be  not 
highly  specialised,  experience  surely  shows  that  it 
differs  in  degree  in  different  individuals.  And  we 
see  every  day,  under  our  system,  men  of  ridicu- 
lously inferior  capacity  filling  high  positions  in 
[61] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Society,  and  men  of  great  ability  in  circumstances 
where  they  have  no  scope  to  develop  it. 
Stuart.  But  the  abler  men  are  always  rising  to 
the  top,  the  incompetent  sinking  to  the  bottom. 
Martin.  Granted,  if  you  like ;  but  this  rising  and 
sinking  is  so  retarded  by  the  institution  of  prop- 
erty that  at  any  given  moment  in  any  generation 
the  correspondence  between  function  and  capac- 
ity is  of  the  slightest.  So  that  I  must  still  adhere, 
when  all  concessions  have  been  made,  to  my  orig- 
inal statement  of  the  case.  Our  society,  broadly 
speaking,  is  one  of  hereditary  classes,  determined 
not  by  aptitude,  as  would  be  the  case  in  Aristo- 
cracy, but  by  wealth. 

Harington.  In  short,  it  is,  as  we  agreed  before, 
a  form  of  Oligarchy. 

Martin.  Yes;  and  we  can  now  say,  more  spe- 
cifically, what  form.  For  the  position  of  the  mem- 
bers, we  see,  is  fixed  almost  entirely  by  their 
wealth,  not  as  in  some  forms  of  Oligarchy,  by 
their  birth,  noble  or  the  reverse.  In  other  words, 
our  society  is  a  Plutocracy. 

Stuart.  It  is  still  so  far  aristocratic,  or  at  least 
unplutocratic,  that  we  have  hereditary  nobility. 
'Martin.  We  have,  in  England;  but  its  impor- 
tance is  steadily  declining,  and  is  already  measured 
rather  by  its  wealth  than  by  its  rank.  A  noble- 
man, it  is  true,  sits  by  right  in  the  House  of 
[62] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Lords ;  but  he  cannot  hope  to  have  much  influence 
or  weight  unless  he  be  also  rich.  England,  like 
America,  is  a  Plutocracy ;  and  the  same  may  be 
said  of  most  European  countries. 
Harington.  Most  true ;  and  that  is  why  I  find  the 
modern  world  so  mean. 

Martin.  Plutocracy,  I  agree,  at  its  best  is  not  a 
very  noble  form  of  society.  But  I  am  afraid  we 
have  not  even  got  it  at  its  best. 
Stuart.  How  so? 

Martin.  The  best  form  of  Plutocracy,  I  suppose, 
would  be  one  in  which  position  and  power  would 
be  apportioned  not  according  to  the  mere  posses- 
sion of  wealth,  but  according  to  the  capacity  to 
acquire  and  administer  it. 

Harington.  Even  so,  Plutocracy,  in  my  opinion, 
would  be  a  bad  thing.  For  the  faculty  of  money- 
making,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  is  a  kind  of  special 
gift,  divorced  from  justice,  humanity,  benevo- 
lence, and  even  intelligence,  in  the  larger  and  finer 
sense  of  the  term;  it  is  a  sort  of  low  cunning, 
combined  with  unscrupulousness ;  and  to  make 
this  inferior  instinct  the  main  or  only  passport  to 
power  could  never  be  a  way  of  creating  a  just  or 
harmonious  or  good  society. 

Martin.  Still,  it  must  be  admitted  that  a  commu- 
nity organised  on  that  basis  would  at  least  be  one 
where  position  would  correspond  to  aptitude,  even 
,[63] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

though  the  aptitude  were  a  base  one.  But  in  our 
Society  it  is  not  the  power  to  create  or  administer 
wealth,  but  the  bare  possession  of  it  that  confers 
position.  And  into  possession  of  it  men  come  by 
the  most  capricious  and  accidental  ways,  by  in- 
heritance, by  gift,  by  lucky  speculation,  or  what 
not.  So  that  immense  fortunes,  over  and  over 
again,  are  owned  and  dissipated  by  men  who 
could  have  never  earned  a  penny ;  while  others 
with  great  natural  capacity  for  the  manipulation 
of  wealth  never  get  an  opportunity  to  make  their 
talent  tell.  A  Marquis  of  Anglesea  is  throwing 
away  his  millions  whilst  some  village  Carnegie  or 
Rockefeller  toils  unrecognized  at  the  plough  or 
labours  in  the  mine. 

Stuart.  I  don't  much  believe  in  the  village  Car- 
negie or  Rockefeller.  Such  men  nothing  can  keep 
down. 

Martin.  There  is  no  doubt  some  truth  in  that; 
and  so  far  as  it  is  true,  our  society  corresponds  to 
the  better  type  of  Plutocracy. 
Harington.  Better!  But  what  an  indictment 
against  any  society,  that  the  men  who  can't  be 
kept  down  in  it  are  just  such  men  as  that!  Men, 
who  in  any  decently  organised  community,  would 
be  put  to  the  lowest  and  most  menial  tasks ! 
Stuart.  Don't  be  too  hard  upon  them !  Even  a 
millionaire  may  have  his  virtues.  And,  if  I  may 
[64] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

venture  to  say  so,  I  know  men  who  have  much 
money  and  who  yet  are  not  entirely  devoid  of  in- 
telligence and  probity. 

Har'mgton.  I  beg  your  pardon !  I  know  I  am  ex- 
travagant on  this  point.  The  vices  of  Plutocracy 
happen  to  be  those  which  peculiarly  exasperate 
me.  But,  of  course,  if  one  is  to  be  reasonable,  I 
admit  that  there  are  rich  men  who  might  be  fit  to 
rule  even  in  an  Aristocracy. 

Stuart.  I  accept  the  handsome  apology ;  but  I 
will  not  accept  without  comment  the  description 
of  our  society  as  a  Plutocracy.  What  strikes  me 
about  it  is  not  the  power  of  the  rich,  but  the 
power  of  the  masses.  You  see  it  not  only  in  gov- 
ernment, but  in  all  economic  relations.  What  do 
you  make,  for  instance,  of  the  action  and  the 
claims  of  Trades  Unions? 

Martin.  It  is  part  of  my  contention  that  when  you 
get  Oligarchy  you  also  get  Ochlocracy.  And  in 
this  connection  I  not  only  admit,  I  insist  upon  the 
fact  that  where  the  mass  of  men  are  condemned, 
not  on  any  principle  of  efficiency,  but  by  sheer 
luck,  to  do  the  hardest  and  most  disagreeable 
work,  for  the  lowest  remuneration,  they  will  and 
must  and  do  fall  back  upon  the  power  of  numbers 
as  their  only  weapon  and  counterpoise.  The 
principle  on  which  classes  are  organised  being 
radically  defective,  the  necessary  consequence  is 
[65] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

friction  and  discord.  On  the  continent  tins  situa- 
tion has  been  frankly  formulated  by  the  Social- 
ists as  class-war.  And  if  that  formulation  seems 
to  Englishmen  extreme  and  forced,  it  contains, 
for  every  country,  at  least  so  much  truth  that 
everywhere  Society  is  in  a  position  of  unstable 
equilibrium.  There  is  no  balance  or  harmony,  no 
recognition  of  equity,  but  a  perpetual  effort  on 
the  part  of  the  poor  to  encroach  upon  the  rich, 
and  on  the  part  of  the  rich  to  defend  themselves 
against  the  poor.  In  our  time,  as  much  as  in 
Plato's,  every  Society  is  divided  if  not  into  two, 
into  many  hostile  camps ;  and  for  this  division  the 
institution  of  property  is  responsible. 
Stuart.  Well,  it  is  the  ochlocratic  element,  not 
the  oligarchic  one  that  I  fear. 
Martin.  I  fear  both.  But  when  you  have  Oli- 
garchy, I  hold  it  to  be  the  only  salvation  that 
Ochlocracy  should  rise  against  it.  From  the  clash 
of  the  two  perhaps  something  better  will  result, 
if  we  will  learn  the  lesson  of  the  situation. 
Stuart.  Why  should  it  not  be  something  worse 
that  results? 

Martin.  It  well  may  be,  unless  we  learn  to  think 
and  act  rightly.  And  the  first  step  to  that  is  to 
see  clearly  what  the  present  state  of  society  is.  I 
called  it  a  Plutocracy,  and  you  call  it  an  Ochlo- 
cracy ;  but  the  truth,  I  think,  is,  as  we  said  before, 
[66] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

that  it  is  both,  the  one  constantly  engendering  the 
other.  Will  you  accept  that  compromise? 
Stuart.  Provisionally,  yes. 

Martin.  Next,  then,  let  us  ask  what  we  think 
would  be  a  better  order  of  society,  so  far  as  this 
point  of  the  distribution  of  labour  is  concerned. 
And,  as  before,  let  us  take  first  the  aristocratic 
ideal,  and  ask  Harington  how  he  would  arrange 
things  if  he  had  his  way. 

Harington.  That  I  have  already  indicated.  Aris- 
tocracy would  be  a  system  of  hereditary  classes ; 
and  so  far  would  resemble  our  own  Society.  But 
these  classes  would  be  determined  not  by  wealth, 
but  by  faculty ;  the  existence  of  the  requisite  fac- 
ulty in  each  class  being  guaranteed  by  a  scientific 
plan  of  breeding.  In  other  words,  the  distribu- 
tion of  labour  among  the  members  of  the  Society 
would  be  independent  of  property,  and  deter- 
mined exclusively  by  the  general  interests  of  the 
community.  Authority  would  decide  that  such 
and  such  classes  of  labourers  were  required,  in 
such  and  such  numbers ;  and  provision  would  be 
made  accordingly  by  those  responsible  for  regu- 
lating marriage.  The  institution  of  property 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  that  matter;  its 
only  function  would  be  the  distribution  of  the 
rewards  of  labour. 

Martin.  That  is  what  I  imagined  you  would  say  ; 
[67] 


(2)  The  dis- 
tribution 
of  labour 
in  an  Ar- 
istocracy. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

and  I  will  only  add  a  few  words,  for  the  sake  of 
explicitness.  Your  classes  would,  of  course,  would 
they  not,  be  more  definite  and  fixed  tkan  they  are 
in  our  Society? 

Harington.  Certainly.  From  the  aristocratic 
point  of  view,  the  casual  moving  up  and  down 
from  one  class  to  another  is  a  defect  not  a  merit, 
a  mere  intrusion  of  anarchy. 

Martin.  And  you  would  say  the  same,  would  you 
not,  of  the  shifting  of  the  classes  themselves,  the 
formation  of  new  ones,  as,  recently,  of  the  class 
of  chauffeurs;  the  perpetual  and  incalculable 
emergence  and  disappearance  of  occupations,  and 
of  corresponding  social  strata,  which  is  one  of  the 
noticeable  features  of  modern  industrial  commu- 
nities ? 

Harington.  It  is  not  so  much  the  changes  them- 
selves, as  their  accidental  character  that  would  be 
repugnant  to  an  Aristocracy.  For  I  am  not  sup- 
posing, as  Plato  did,  that  my  society  would  neces- 
sarily be  stationary.  I  conceive  it  to  be  progres- 
sive; only  the  progress  would  be  regulated  and 
controlled  by  government.  So  that  if  new  inven- 
tions, for  example,  led  to  new  processes,  and  those 
to  a  demand  for  new  classes  of  labour,  then  the 
processes  would  be  introduced,  and  the  labour  pro- 
vided by  authority ;  the  whole  evolution  thus  re- 
maining thoroughly  under  control,  to  the  ex- 
[68] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

elusion  of  all  the  disturbance,  misery  and  disaster 
which  is  a  normal  feature  of  our  own  Societies. 
Martin.  That  is  a  new  idea  to  me,  that  you  con- 
ceive Aristocracy  as  progressive;  and  it  differen- 
tiates your  view  fundamentally  from  that  of 
Plato.  It  does  not,  however,  affect  the  point 
which  interests  us  for  the  moment,  that,  in  an 
aristocratic  community,  all  the  higher  functions, 
especially  that  of  government,  would  be  entrusted 
to  a  small  hereditary  minority  ? 
Harmgton.  Yes,  that  is  so. 

Martin.  And  all  that  we  call  culture,  the  appre- 
ciation, if  not  the  practice  of  art,  philosophy,  lit- 
erature and  science,  and  the  leisure  and  outlook 
necessary  for  such  pursuits  —  all  this  would  be 
the  monopoly  of  the  minority? 
Harmgton.  Yes ;  as  it  is  with  us,  or  rather  would 
be,  if  those  activities  were  seriously  and  nobly 
cultivated  at  all;  and  as  it  always  has  been 
wherever  they  have  been  cultivated. 
Martin.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  great  mass 
of  men,  being  specialised  for  mechanical  and  rou- 
tine pursuits,  would  have  neither  the  desire  nor 
the  faculty  for  the  higher  activities? 
Harington.  And  not  having  either  the  desire  or 
the  faculty,  they  would  of  course  feel  no  resent- 
ment at  their  exclusion. 

Martin.   So  that,  in  your  view,  though  Aristo- 
[69] 


(3)  The  dis- 
tribution 
of  labour 
in  a  De- 
mocracy. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

cracy  would  be,  if  anything,  more  unequal  than 
our  own  Society,  it  would  nevertheless  be  more 
just.  And  being  just,  it  would  be  harmonious; 
and  being  harmonious  would  be  secure  and  stable? 
Harlngton.  Yes,  that  is  my  contention. 
Martin.  Well,  I  accept  your  description  of  the 
aristocratic  ideal;  and  now,  shall  I  go  on  to  de- 
scribe in  turn  my  own  ideal  of  Democracy,  so  far 
as  this  question  of  the  distribution  of  labour  is 
concerned? 

Harington.  Please  do. 

Martin.  First,  in  Democracy,  as  in  Aristocracy, 
the  distribution  of  labour  would  not  be  deter- 
mined by  the  distribution  of  property,  but  by 
some  other  principle.  I  cannot,  however,  call  in 
here  the  principle  of  Faculty.  For,  as  we  saw, 
Democracy  would  breed,  not,  like  Aristocracy, 
for  specialisation  but  for  all-round  capacity; 
and  if  it  were  successful  in  this,  then,  broadly 
speaking,  any  citizen  so  far  as  endowment  is  con- 
cerned, would  be  fit  for  any  function,  so  that  the 
actual  function  he  is  to  perform  and  for  which 
he  is  to  be  trained  must  be  fixed  by  some  other 
consideration. 

Harington.  By  what,  then? 

Martin.  By    convenience.  The    citizens    must    be 
somehow   induced   and  qualified   to   perform   the 
work  that  is  wanted,  whatever  be  its  character. 
[70] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  I  don't  see  then  how  Democracy  would 
differ  from  our  own  society.  For  among  us,  too, 
presumably  all  work  that  is  done  is  done  because 
it  is  wanted  by  people  who  are  fit  to  do  it. 
Martin.  The  difference  would  lie  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  inducement  offered.  At  present,  all 
the  disagreeable  work  gets  done  because  the  mass 
of  people  have  no  opportunity  to  do  anything 
else;  they  must  do  it  or  starve.  But  in  a  De- 
mocracy, where  there  should  be  real  equality  of 
opportunity  and  approximate  equality  of  capac- 
ity, there  would  have  to  be  either  some  direct 
coercion  upon  everyone  to  do  his  share  of 
the  onerous  and  necessary  work;  or  else,  some 
special  inducement,  in  the  way  of  wages  or  lei- 
sure, or  honour,  to  attract  men  to  otherwise  un- 
attractive labour.  In  any  case,  it  would,  I  think, 
be  essential  in  a  Democracy,  that  work  of  that 
kind,  instead  of  being  dishonoured,  as  it  is 
among  us,  should  be  honoured  at  least  as  much 
as,  if  not  above,  other  occupations. 
Harlngton.  That  does  follow,  I  clearly  see,  from 
your  principle,  and  it  brings  out  the  exact  point 
in  which  I  differ  from  you. 
Martin.  Yes? 

Harlngton.  I  mean  that  what  I  value  above  every- 
thing  else   is   "  virtue,"   in   the   pagan,    not   the 
Christian  sense,  greatness  and  nobility  of  charac- 
[71] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

ter  and  mind  and  body.  And  I  cannot  see  how, 
in  a  world  like  this,  that  quality  can  be  acquired 
and  maintained,  save  by  a  class  living  on  the  la- 
bour of  others.  Manual  occupations,  trades  and 
commerce,  however  necessary  and  respectable  they 
may  be,  not  only  do  not  develop,  they  tend 
directly  to  degrade  the  body  or  the  soul  or  both. 
And  this  applies  to  the  modern  no  less  than  to 
the  ancient  world ;  perhaps  it  applies  even  more. 
We  have  not,  it  is  true,  the  status  of  slavery; 
but  we  have  division  of  labour  and  the  machine. 
And  what  kind  of  development  is  possible,  in 
body  or  mind,  for  a  man  who  during  six  days 
of  eight  hours  in  every  week  is  pulling  a  lever, 
or  turning  a  crank,  or  laying  one  sheet  of  paper 
on  another,  or  arranging  type  in  cases,  or  any 
other  of  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  simple  and 
monotonous  tasks  on  which  the  majority  are  now 
condemned  to  employ  the  whole  of  their  activity, 
performing  always  one  single  operation  which, 
in  itself  meaningless  and  futile,  derives  sig- 
nificance only  from  its  relation  to  innumerable 
other  processes,  similarly  conducted  by  isolated 
groups  of  specialised  workmen ;  so  that  none  of 
them  have  any  conception  of,  much  less  any  inter- 
est in  the  thing  they  are  contributing  to  make, 
but  dismally  and  blindly  grind  out  their  allotted 
task,  unilluminated  by  the  thrill  of  conception, 
[72] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

the  passion  of  creation,  the  triumph  of  achieve- 
ment, not  artists,  nor  even  artisans,  but  in  spirit- 
ual, if  not  in  legal  truth,  enslaved,  body  and  soul, 
no  longer,  indeed,  to  human  masters  but  to  that 
most  cruel,  most  implacable,  most  unnatural 
monster,  the  machine.  How  are  such  occupations 
compatible  with  a  noble  life?  And  is  it  any  better 
when  you  turn  to  trade  and  commerce?  Not  to 
speak  of  the  armies  of  clerks  and  type-writers, 
as  inevitably  degraded  in  their  way  as  the  tenders 
of  machines,  what  is  the  real  occupation  of  the 
masters  themselves?  Are  they  not  employed  per- 
petually in  every  kind  of  mean  trick  to  get  the 
better  of  one  another  and  of  the  Public?  Are  not 
lying  and  fraud,  under  the  names  of  advertise- 
ment and  competition,  the  approved  weapons  of 
their  ignoble  war?  Is  it  not  their  fundamental 
maxim  that  "  business  is  business,"  and  does  not 
that  mean  that  business  is  not  loyalty,  honour, 
and  good  faith?  To  such  men,  so  employed, 
how  is  virtue  possible?  How  is  it  possible  even 
to  professional  men,  as  they  rightly  are  called, 
for  they  profess  much  better  than  they  prac- 
tise? To  plead  the  cause  of  justice  is  a  noble 
act ;  but  to  sell  a  knowledge  of  law  to  the  highest 
bidder,  without  reference  to  the  equity  of  the 
case,  is  the  meanest  of  all  forms  of  barter.  To 
heal  the  sick  is  kind  and  humane ;  but  to  pamper 
[73] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

rich  invalids  for  a  fee,  or  haggle  with  the  poor 
for  their  pence,  is  to  make  of  the  art  of  medicine 
a  base  trade.  Wherever  and  whenever  men  have, 
as  we  say,  to  "  make  a  living,"  they  make  it,  the 
few  by  fraud  and  chicanery,  the  many  by  servile 
labour.  To  no  such  men  is  virtue  possible.  It  is 
possible  only  —  for  I  will  be  candid  —  to  those 
who  do  not  make  but  take  their  living;  in  other 
words,  to  a  privileged  class  living  on  the  labour  of 
others,  and  in  exchange,  an  equitable  exchange, 
as  I  hold,  governing  them  justly,  and  fostering 
those  liberal  arts  and  sciences  in  which  greatness 
of  personality  finds  its  natural  expression.  Such 
a  class  alone  gives  a  sense  and  an  end  to 
the  Sisyphean  labour  of  mankind.  And  though 
the  many  do  not  directly  participate  in  these 
nobler  activities,  yet  they  are,  and  dimly  feel 
themselves  to  be,  the  happier  and  better  that 
their  sordid  and  laborious  life  is  redeemed  from 
mere  futility  by  this  rare  and  splendid  flower  into 
which  it  blossoms.  But  you,  by  compelling  all 
alike  to  take  part  in  the  drudgery  of  life,  would 
for  ever  forbid  the  plant  to  bloom;  for  the  sake 
of  justice  you  would  render  excellence  impossible; 
all  alike  would  grind  in  the  sordid  mill  of  ignoble 
toil;  and  there  would  be  no  result,  beautiful  and 
good  in  itself,  to  contemplate,  no  product  but  the 
daily  bread,  and  no  use  for  that  save  to  enable  the 
[74] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

workers  drearily  to  renew  the  daily  round.  It  is 
because  Democracy  leads  logically  to  this  that  I 
reject  it.  I  must  have,  at  all  costs,  in  any  society 
I  could  value,  colour,  splendour,  beauty,  nobility. 
I  must  have  it,  if  need  be,  at  the  cost  of  justice; 
and  unless  you  can  show  me  a  democratic  society 
in  which  you  could  guarantee  those  goods,  I  de- 
liberately and  with  a  clear  conscience  choose  Aris- 
tocracy. 

Stuart.  May  the  plain  man  once  more  interpose 
against  the  passion  of  the  philosopher?  Your 
picture  of  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  labouring 
and  professional  classes  is  really  a  little  out  of 
drawing.  I  don't  say  that  we're  saints,  or  heroes, 
or  philosophers,  or  poets,  but  we  have  our  humble 
virtues  and  our  standards;  we  are  not  wholly 
ignorant,  nor  exclusively  selfish,  nor  cynically 
dishonest.  We  really  look,  I  assure  you,  better 
from  within  than  we  do  from  outside. 
Harington.  You  belong  yourself  to  the  most 
leisured,  and  therefore  the  most  honourable  and 
cultivated  class  of  business  men.  Yet  it  is  from 
you  that  I  have  heard  some  of  the  most  striking 
illustrations  of  the  mental  and  moral  decadence 
of  the  commercial  world. 

Stuart.  Have  I  so  unconsciously  given  away  my 
own  class? 

Martin.  It  is  impossible,  my  dear  Stuart,  to  re- 
[75] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

cognise  you  as  a  member  of  any  class.  You  have 
none  of  the  characteristic  vices.  And  Harington, 
no  doubt,  if  you  caught  him  off  his  guard,  would 
be  ready  to  admit  that  there  may  be  many  men 
like  you.  But  after  all,  the  general  tendency  of 
mechanical  labour  and  of  business  and  profes- 
sional work,  is  what  he  describes  it,  even  though 
individuals  may  react  successfully  against  it. 
Moving  among  men,  as  you  do,  with  natural 
kindly  feelings,  you  do  not  perhaps  generally 
notice  the  tendency.  But  stand  a  little  aloof  on 
any  kind  of  ideal  standpoint,  and  Harington's 
picture,  I  think,  would  not  seem  much  overdrawn. 
Stuart.  I  am  learning  from  this  conversation 
that  an  ideal  standpoint  is  one  from  which  every- 
thing is  seen  out  of  proportion. 
Martin.  Well,  whether  or  no  Harington's  indict- 
ment of  society  as  it  exists  is  exaggerated,  at  any 
rate  I  hope  to  show  that  things  would  be  better 
in  my  Democracy.  And  everything  here  seems  to 
turn  on  this  question,  whether  onerous  and  neces- 
sary labour  is,  or  is  not,  necessarily  degrading 
to  those  who  perform  it. 

Harington.  I  believe  it  is  degrading,  both  to  body 
and  mind.  It  is  the  primitive  curse;  and  all  the 
attempts  of  moralists  to  convert  it  into  a  blessing 
are  sheer  sophistry.  It  is  those  that  look  on,  not 
those  that  work,  who  talk  of  the  dignity  of 
[76] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

labour.  Is  it  not,  as  a  matter  of  experience,  the 
one  object  of  every  one  to  escape  from  the  neces- 
sity to  work,  and  especially  from  the  necessity 
to  work  with  his  hands  ?  The  whole  social  organi- 
sation, one  may  say,  is  a  resultant  of  these  two 
factors,  the  compulsion  to  work  and  the  effort 
to  escape  from  work.  The  only  men  who  ever 
lived  free  and  noble  lives  have  been  the  men  who 
have  not  had  to  toil  for  their  living.  All  the  rest 
are  spoilt  and  maimed  by  labour. 
Martin.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  is  it  not  true 
that  many  men  take  to  work  as  a  holiday?  One 
turns  to  carpentering,  another  to  gardening, 
another  to  book-binding,  and  so  on,  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  it. 

Harington.  That  is  quite  a  different  thing. 
Martin.  Yes,  but  where  does  the  difference  come 
in  ?  The  work  is  the  same ;  what  is  different  is  the 
conditions.  The  man  works  when  he  likes,  and 
as  he  likes ;  he  works  for  his  own  pleasure,  not  for 
a  tyrannous  market;  when  he  is  tired  he  stops, 
when  he  is  inclined  to  begin  again,  he  begins. 
Such  work  surely,  so  freely  done,  is  not  degrad- 
ing? 

Harington.  No ;  but  you  have  taken  examples 
where  an  element  of  art  comes  in.  And  that  is 
not  the  case  with  most  of  the  work  that  has  to 
be  done,  especially  now  under  machine  conditions. 
[77] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Who,  for  instance,  would  ever  flush  drains,  or 
sweep  streets,  or  tend  a  machine  as  a  holiday? 
Martin.  I  must  admit,  candidly,  that  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  necessary  work  which  can  never  be 
made  agreeable  or,  in  itself,  desirable.  But  I  be- 
lieve that  the  burden  of  such  work  might  be 
considerably  reduced  if  men's  minds  were  really 
set  upon  that  purpose. 

Stuart.  They  are  set  upon  it.  What  else  is  the 
object  of  mechanical  inventions? 
Harington.  So  far  as  I  can  observe,  their  only 
object  is  to  make  money  for  somebody.  I  doubt 
whether  anything  has  ever  been  invented,  or  any 
invention  ever  been  applied,  really  with  a  view 
to  lightening  toil.  Wherever  it  "  pays," —  odious 
expression !  —  to  employ  masses  of  unskilled  la- 
bour rather  than  expensive  and  elaborate  ma- 
chines, that  alternative  is  adopted.  And  in  the 
invention  and  introduction  of  machines,  no  care 
or  thought  is  taken  as  to  the  character  of  the 
labour  which  will  be  required  to  work  them, 
how  exacting,  how  exhausting,  dreary,  unwhole- 
some, and  so  on,  but  at  most,  how  expensive  it 
will  be.  So  that  it  could  be  asserted  by  John 
Stuart  Mill,  and,  I  believe,  with  truth,  that  all 
our  mechanical  inventions  taken  together  have 
not  had  the  effect  of  lightening  the  toil  imposed 
upon  a  single  human  being. 
[78] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  I  altogether  deny  it. 
Martin.  But  perhaps  both  you  and  Harington 
will  be  ready  to  admit  —  and  it  is  important  for 
my  case  —  that  if  as  much  ingenuity  and  pa- 
tience as  has  been  devoted  to  the  invention  of 
"  labour-saving  "  machines  were  to  be  expended 
upon  the  problem  of  really  saving  labour,  it 
might  be  possible,  by  associating  with  mechan- 
ical devices  a  reorganisation  of  institutions,  not 
perhaps  to  abolish  but  to  reduce  to  comparatively 
small  dimensions  the  amount  of  disagreeable  and 
merely  onerous  work. 

Harington.  Still,  there  must  remain  a  consider- 
able residue,  and  most  people  must  be  mechan- 
ically and  slavishly  employed  upon  it. 
Martin.  Granted,  if  you  insist  upon  such  hard 
terms.  But,  perhaps,  in  a  Democracy,  the  per- 
sons employed  need  not  be  of  a  slavish  nature, 
They  might  be  people  of  good  natural  capacity, 
well-educated,  and  accustomed  to  spend  a  great 
part  of  their  time  in  liberal  and  free  occupations. 
Neither  their  bodies  nor  their  souls,  nor  their 
characters,  I  think,  need  be  degraded  by  the  per- 
formance of  the  drudgery  they  undertook;  and 
the  utmost  extent  of  their  loss  would  be  so  many 
hours  of  time  abstracted  from  more  pleasant  and 
more  noble  pursuits. 

[79] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Harmgton.  Those,  I  admit,  would  be  extenuat- 
ing circumstances. 

Martin.  And  then,  again,  to  take  the  other  point 
you  made,  as  to  the  chicanery  and  dishonesty  of 
business  and  the  professions.  You  were,  I  think, 
a  little  hard  upon  those  pursuits,  even  as  at 
present  organised.  But  I  will  not  complain  of 
that.  I  will  only  urge  that  here  again  it  is  not 
the  occupation  that  is  ignoble,  but  the  conditions 
under  which  it  is  carried  on.  Suppose,  for  ex- 
ample, that  all  those  services,  or  sue]?  of  them  as 
might  still  be  necessary,  instead  of  being  per- 
formed, as  at  present,  by  private  individuals 
under  competitive  conditions,  struggling  for  life 
and  death  on  the  inclined  plane  that  leads  to  ruin, 
fighting  always  for  more  than  they  need  for  fear 
they  should  be  obliged  to  take  less,  too  marxy  of 
them,  everywhere,  competing  for  one  job>  and 
the  conditions  of  success  not  only,  nor  <rven 
mainly,  merit  and  capacity,  still  less  honesty  and 
rectitude,  which  may  be  positive  disqualifications, 
but  that  peculiar  and  intrinsically  contemptible 
art  we  may  call  "  push  " —  suppose  that,  instead 
of  all  this,  all  these  functions  were  to  be  per- 
formed by  people  who  received  a  fixed  salary  so 
long  as  they  did  their  work  efficiently  —  would 
not  all  the  charges  you  have  brought  against 
these  pursuits  fall  of  themselves  to  the  ground; 
[80] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

and  might  not  the  conduct  of  those  engaged  in 
them  become  as  admirable,  and  their  attitude  of 
mind  as  independent  and  as  upright,  as  that  of 
our  public  servants  now  in  India  or  in  Egypt? 
Har'mgton.  It  might  be  so,  I  admit. 
Martin.  Well,  you  agree,  then,  that  the  antithe- 
sis you  made  between  Virtue  and  Justice  is  not 
necessarily  final  and  irremediable?  And  that  So- 
ciety might  conceivably  be1  so  organised  as  to  sus- 
tain all  the  burdens  of  onerous  toil,  while  yet 
leaving  to  its  citizens  leisure  and  capacity  for 
living  noble  lives? 

Har'mgton.  I  suppose  it  is  conceivable. 
Martin.  As  conceivable,  at  least,  as  your  Aris- 
tocracy. At  any  rate,  you  see  the  kind  of  so- 
ciety I  contemplate  under  the  name  Democracy. 
It  would  be  one  in  which  the  different  occupations 
of  men  would  not  be  assigned  to  them  fatally, 
as  they  are  now,  for  the  most  part,  through 
hereditary  privilege,  and  as  they  would  be  in  your 
Aristocracy  by  authority ;  but  would  be  chosen 
as  freely  as  possible  according  to  the  induce- 
ments offered,  all  employments  being  really, 
and  not  only  in  principle,  open  to  everybody. 
From  which,  by  itself,  it  would  result  that  there 
would  be  no  social  classes,  though  there  would 
be  differences  of  occupation ;  and  from  which  also, 
probably,  there  would  result  a  great  mobility  of 
[81] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

labour,  most  people  being  fit  for  promotion  to 
most  posts,  and  passing  in  the  course  of  their 
life  through  a  number  of  employments. 
Stuart,  And  how  do  you  propose  to  construct 
such  a  society? 
(4)  The  dis-       Martin.  That  question  brings  me  on  to  our  next 

tribution       point,  perhaps  the  most  difficult  and  the  most  im- 

of  the          portant,  the  distribution  of  the  products  of  la- 

products        bour. 

of  labour      Stuart.  That  means  the  whole  question  of  Social- 

in  Existing  ism  and  Individualism. 

Society.         Martin.  Yes.  Only  let  us  try  to  set  aside  all  our 
preconceptions,  watchwords,  formulae,  technicali- 
ties, and  look  at  the  matter  as  freshly  as  possible, 
as  it  presents  itself  to  us  in  the  natural  course 
of  our  argument. 
Stuart.  By  all  means,  if  we  can. 
Martin.  And  shall  we,  as  before,  start  with  our 
own  society,  before  going  on  to  construct  other 
arrangements  ? 
Stuart.  As  you  will. 

Martin.  What  then  is  the  principle  which  does 
actually  now  determine  the  distribution  of  the 
products  of  labour? 

Stuart.  I  should  say  it  is  the  principle  of  effi- 
ciency. Roughly  speaking,  a  man  gets  what  he 
deserves. 

[82] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.    In    what    sense    "  deserves? "    Do    you 
mean  that  he  gets  what  he  earns? 
Stuart.  Yes,  approximately. 
Martin.  But  it  is  clear,  in  the  first  place,  that  a 
great  many  people  get  what  they  do  not  earn. 
For  no  one  earns  what  he  inherits,  or  what  he 
receives  as  a  gift. 

Stuart.  No  doubt ;  but  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that. 
Martin.  Let  us,  however,  think  of  it  first,  and 
note  what  immense  wealth  is  distributed  without 
any  reference  to  labour  or  desert.  How  many 
millions  pass  in  that  way  every  year  I  do  not 
know ;  but  the  sum,  of  course,  is  huge.  And,  as 
we  saw,  the  existence  of  classes  more  or  less  here- 
ditary, the  permanent  stratification  of  society  into 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  in  a  word,  the  plutocratic 
character  of  our  community,  is  due  to  this  feature 
of  our  system  of  distribution.  We  are  not,  how- 
ever, now  regarding  it  from  the  point  of  view 
of  its  consequences,  but  are  seeking  for  the  prin- 
ciple on  which  it  is  based.  What  are  we  to  call 
this  principle?  For  clearly  it  is  not  desert,  in 
the  sense  that  the  recipient  earns  what  he  receives. 
Stuart.  Do  we  require  any  principle  other  than 
the  general  principle  of  property?  What  a  man 
owns  he  has  a  right  to  dispose  of,  and  the  man 
to  whom  he  gives  it  has  a  right  to  receive  it. 
Martin.  A  legal  right,  of  course,  under  our  sys- 
[83] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

tern  of  law.  But  it  is  exactly  that  system  we  are 
questioning  and  testing.  We  are  asking  for  the 
justification  of  the  facts. 

Stuart.  Well,  I  suppose  you  can  fi.id  it  in  the 
fact  that  a  man  is  responsible  for  his  children. 
He  brings  them  into  the  world,  and  he  is  bound 
to  provide  for  them. 

Martin.  Until,  that  is,  they  are  able  to  provide  for 
themselves.  Where  that  responsibility  is  thrown 
upon  the  parents,  it  is  reasonable  and  right  that, 
^hen  the  children  are  left  orphans  and  are  still 
too  young  to  be  able  to  support  themselves,  or 
in  case  any  of  them,  for  one  reason  or  another, 
should  be  permanently  in  need  of  support,  such 
portion  of  the  parent's  property  as  is  required 
should  be  devoted  to  that  purpose.  But  to  con- 
cede that  is  surely  not  to  justify  the  law 
of  inheritance,  as  it  stands,  and  especially  the 
English  law.  For  we,  in  this  country,  do  not 
compel  the  father  to  leave  any  portion  of  his 
wealth  even  to  the  most  tender  and  incompetent 
child,  but  permit  him,  if  he  has  the  mind,  to  leave 
millions  to  strangers,  and  throw  the  charge  of 
his  children  upon  the  parish.  And  in  no  country, 
so  far  as  I  know,  is  any  attempt  made  to  limit 
the  power  of  bequest  to  the  purpose  you  suggest. 
A  man,  in  countries  where  he  is  bound  to  leave 
some  portion  of  his  wealth  to  his  descendants,  is 
[84] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

bour^d  to  leave  it  to  them  whether  they  need  it 
or  no,  whether  they  are  children  or  grown  men 
or  women,  whether  they  are  rich  or  poor.  And 
while,  on  the  one  hand,  in  the  case  of  the  well-to- 
do  minority,  it  is  only  incidentally  and  as  it  were 
by  accident  that  the  law  secures  the  end  which 
you  suggest  as  its  justification;  on  the  other 
hand,  in  the  case  of  the  great  mass  of  people 
who  have  no  wealth  to  bequeath,  that  end  is  not 
attained  at  all,  save  by  the  intervention  of  public 
aid  or  private  charity.  If  really  the  justification 
of  the  institution  of  bequest  and  inheritance  were 
that  which  you  allege,  it  would  have  to  be  rad- 
ically transformed,  on  the  one  hand  so  as  to 
ensure  that  the  purpose  in  view  should  be  really 
accomplished,  on  the  other  to  prevent  mere  squan- 
dering of  wealth  where  it  is  not  needed  for  the 
purpose.  So  long  as  a  millionaire  can  disinherit 
all  his  infant  children,  and  bestow  his  millions  on 
an  imbecile  or  a  criminal,  unconnected  'with  him 
by  any  tie  of  blood,  so  long  it  is  impossible  to 
defend  the  law,  as  we  have  it,  on  the  grounds 
which  you  advance. 

Stuart.  Well  then,  I  suppose  it  can  be  defended 
on  the  ground  that  unless  you  allow  a  man  to 
dispose  of  his  wealth  as  he  likes,  he  will  decline 
to  earn  it,  and  the  community  will  be  the  poorer. 
Martin.  There  is,  no  doubt,  something  in  that, 
[85] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

though  it  is  hard  to  say  how  much.  We  shall 
have,  later,  to  examine  our  system  from  the  point 
of  view  of  its  effect  on  production.  Meantime, 
and  granting  your  point,  we  must  say,  must  we 
not,  that  in  order  to  encourage  the  production  of 
wealth  our  Society  permits  the  distribution  of 
an  immense  part  of  it  to  be  governed  not  by  any 
principle,  but  by  what  may  indeed  be  the  sound 
judgment,  but  may  also  be,  and  often  is,  the 
caprice  and  whim  of  the  individual  who  owns  it? 
Stuart.  I  believe  it  to  be  more  often  the  sound 
judgment  than  the  caprice  and  whim. 
Martin.  As  to  that  I  will  not  dogmatise.  But  in 
either  case,  it  is  certain  that  the  law  of  inherit- 
ance and  bequest,  in  the  way  in  which  it  prac- 
tically operates,  is  the  great  and  indeed  the  only 
source  of  our  permanent  inequalities ;  and  that  if 
we  really  wanted  to  get  rid  of  these,  should  have 
to  modify  or  abolish  that  institution. 
Stuart.  I  suppose  that  is  so. 

(6)  Rent.  Martin.  So  much,  then,  for  that  part  of  the  dis- 

tribution of  wealth  which  is  determined  in  that 
way.  We  will  go  on  now  to  another  point.  A 
great  part  of  our  wealth  is  in  the  form,  is  it  not, 
of  rent?  I  am  using  the  word,  you  will  under- 
stand, in  the  strict  economic  sense,  not  in  the 
sense  in  which  it  is  used  in  business  and  in  ordi- 
nary speech. 

[86] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  I  understand. 

Martin.  Well  then,  by  definition,  rent  is  some- 
thing that  is  not  earned  by  the  recipient;  it  is 
what  he  can  exact  from  other  people  by  the 
ownership  of  something  they  need  and  cannot  get 
elsewhere.  Urban  ground-rents  are  the  best  ex- 
ample; but  this  element,  analysis  shows,  enters 
in  the  most  complicated  way  into  the  profits  of 
innumerable  enterprises ;  nay,  even  the  profes- 
sions, even  the  skilled  trades,  may  be  fairly  said 
to  include  in  their  remuneration  an  element  of 
rent,  in  so  far  as  the  price  their  members  can 
exact  for  their  services  is  enhanced  by  an  artifi- 
cial limitation  of  their  numbers,  whether  that  be 
temporary  or  permanent.  You  know,  of  course, 
as  well  as  I  do,  or  better,  the  analysis  of  the 
modern  Economists. 

Stuart.  Yes ;  but  I  have  my  doubts  of  its  prac- 
tical importance. 

Martin.  In  any  case,  you  will  not  deny  the  exist- 
ence of  rent,  nor  the  fact  that  a  very  large 
proportion  of  the  wealth  of  the  community  is 
embodied  in  that  form,  whether  or  no  it  be  easy 
to  detect  and  distinguish  from  other  elements. 
And  wherever  that  element  occurs  there  can  be 
no  question  of  desert.  Rent  is  not  earned,  it  is 
taken. 

Stuart.  But  it  is  a  commodity  of  exchange  like 
[87] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

any  other,  and  if  a  man  buys  it  he  has  a  right 
to  it.  If  I  invest  my  money  in  land  I  have  as 
good  a  claim  to  my  3  per  cent,  as  if  I  invest  it 
in  anything  else. 

Martin.  Possibly;  but  that  does  not  alter  the 
essential  character  of  rent,  as  wealth  not  earned 
by  the  man  who  receives  it.  In  a  community  which 
made  earning  the  condition  of  receiving,  rent 
could  not  be  private  property,  and  it  would  be 
impossible  to  buy  or  to  sell  it. 
Stuart.  That,  I  suppose,  may  be  true. 

(c)  Interest.  Martin.  I  believe  it  to  be  indisputable.  What- 
ever part  of  our  distribution  of  wealth  may  be 
due  to  desert,  that  part  is  not  rent.  Let  us  go 
on  now  to  another  part,  the  part  called  interest. 
On  what  principle  is  interest  based? 
Stuart.  Volumes  have  been  written  on  the  sub- 
ject !  And  do  you  expect  me  to  answer  in  a  dozen 
words? 

Martin.  I  will  not  trouble  you  to  answer  at  all, 
if  you  agree  with  me,  that  whatever  may  be  the 
justification  put  fonvard  for  interest,  it  is  not 
earned  or  deserved,  any  more  than  rent  or  in- 
herited wealth.  Interest  is  something  a  man  can 
exact  because  he  owns  capital;  just  as  he  can 
exact  rent  because  he  owns  land,  or  has  some 
other  monopoly. 

Stuart.  Well,  if  he  can  exact  it,  why  shouldn't 
[88] 


•A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

he?  He's  not  bound  to  lend  his  money  for  no- 
thing. 

Martin.  I  don't  say  he  is ;  I  am  not  discussing 
him,  but  the  institution.  In  a  society  where  the 
distribution  of  wealth  was  based  upon  earning, 
there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  interest.  For 
to  live  upon  interest  is,  so  far,  to  live  without 
labour. 

Stuart.  But  the  men  who  administer  wealth  do 
labour,  and  further  take  great  risks. 
Martin.  That  is  true  of  many  of  them,  and  on 
the  principle  of  earnings  they  are  entitled  to 
compensation  for  that.  But  such  compensation  is 
not  interest,  it  should  properly  be  called  wages 
or  salary.  Pure  interest  may  best  be  seen  in 
the  dividend,  for  example,  of  consols,  where  the 
risk  is  practically  nothing,  and  the  recipients 
need  not  work  at  all  to  earn  the  income  they  re- 
ceive for  their  stock.  Whether  or  no  interest 
may  be  justified  on  some  other  principle,  like 
that  of  postponed  enjoyment,  it  certainly  cannot 
be  justified  on  the  principle  of  desert. 
Stuart.  I  don't  see  that.  Economists  say,  and  I 
agree  with  them,  that  interest  is  the  reward  of 
waiting. 

Martin.  They  used  to  call  it  "  abstinence  " ;  but 
that  grim  jest  they  have  been  shamed  into  aban- 
doning. 

[89] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  Anyhow,  if  there  were  no  interest,  there 
would  be  no  saving.  And  saving  is  a  service  as 
essential  to  society  and  as  much  deserving  pay- 
ment as  any  other. 

Martin.  The  saving  of  wealth  in  order  to  invest 
it  in  industrial  enterprises  is,  no  doubt,  essential 
to  modern  society,  and  must  in  some  way  be  pro- 
vided for.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  see,  under  our  insti- 
tution of  property,  how  it  could  be  provided  for 
otherwise  than  by  the  payment  of  interest.  But 
under  a  different  institution  the  same  result  might 
be  achieved  by  other  means ;  for  the  commu- 
nity itself  might  determine  by  authority  that  so 
much  of  its  annual  product  should  be  devoted 
to  that  purpose.  The  service  of  "  waiting  "  does 
not  seem  to  me  analogous  to  the  service  of  work, 
nor  to  constitute  in  the  same  way  an  equitable 
claim  to  reward. 

Harington.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so;  and 
on  that  point  the  common  sense  of  mankind  has 
always  been  with  you.  How  preposterous,  indeed, 
it  must  sound  to  any  candid  person  to  say  that 
by  not  spending  a  million  on  immediate  enjoy- 
ments a  man  is  doing  a  service  that  deserves 
thirty  thousand  a  year  for  ever!  why,  if  he 
wanted  to  spend  his  million  right  off  he  wouldn't 
know  how  to  do  it!  And  he  would  probably  pre- 
fer to  pay  a  considerable  sum  not  to  be  compelled 
[90] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

to  do  it !  Really,  it  is  time  the  Economists  cleared 
their  minds  of  cant! 

Stuart.  One  might  argue  for  ever;  but  the  fact 
remains  that  society  would  lose  more  than  it  would 
gain  by  trying  to  prohibit  interest. 
Martin.  Possibly !  But  that  only  means  that  in- 
terest is  a  toll  we  cannot  prevent  the  strong  from 
levying  on  the  weak,  not  that  it  is  one  they  are 
equitably  entitled  to  levy. 

Stuart.  As  to  equity,  there  will  always  be  differ- 
ences of  opinion.  It  is  enough  for  me  that  inter- 
est is  necessary. 

Martin.  Under  existing  conditions ;  and,  perhaps, 
under  any  conditions,  in  some  form  or  other; 
but  not,  I  believe,  necessarily  under  the  form  of 
a  toll  paid  to  private  persons,  in  return  for  that 
curious  form  of  service  which  is  called  "  wait- 
ing." However,  if  anyone  does  put  that  service 
on  a  level  with  actual  work,  and  assert  that  a  man 
has  an  equitable  right  to  be  paid  for  not  with- 
holding from  other  people  the  means  of  pro- 
duction, I  don't  know  how  I  could  convince  him. 
I  have  indicated  my  position  on  this  matter  of 
interest,  and  if  you  do  not  agree  I  am  content 
perforce  to  leave  the  matter  there. 
Stuart.  I  believe  I  am  unreasonable  enough  not 
to  agree.  But  no  matter!  I  will  not  block  the 
way.  Proceed  with  your  argument. 
[91] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

(<Z)  Wages.  Martin.  Well,  having  ruled  out,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  desert,  inheritance  and  gift  and  rent 
and  (subject  to  your  dissent)  interest,  I  come 
at  last  to  the  most  important  factor  of  all,  to 
wages,  under  which  I  include  all  payments  made 
in  return  for  services  performed,  whether  by  the 
great  directors  of  enterprises,  or  by  professional 
men,  or  by  manual  labourers.  You  understand 
that  I  use  the  word  in  the  widest  possible  sense,  to 
include  everything  that  may  be  said  indisputably 
to  be  earned.  So  that  here,  if  anywhere,  we  ought 
to  find  in  our  Society  the  distribution  of  wealth 
according  to  desert. 

Stuart.  Yes;  and  the  greater  part  of  our  wealth 
is  so  distributed. 

Martin.  But  in  what  sense  are  we  using  the  word 
desert?  For  I  dare  say  we  disagree  about  that.  I 
should  be  inclined  to  say  that  a  man's  desert  is 
greater  in  proportion  as  his  labour,  being  useful, 
is  also  disagreeable  and  onerous ;  so  that,  of  two 
men  making  contributions  to  wealth,  that  one 
would  deserve  and  should  receive  more  whose  work 
was  the  hardest  to  perform. 
Stuart.  That  is  a  possible  view,  of  course. 
Martin.  But  it  is  obvious,  is  it  not,  that  if  that 
view  be  taken,  it  is  not  desert  that  apportions 
the  rewards  of  labour?  On  the  contrary,  the  most 
onerous  and  painful  and  unhealthy  work  is  the 
[92] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

worst  paid,  and  the  most  agreeable,  healthy,  and 
interesting  the  best.  So  that  it  is  the  very  oppo- 
site of  desert,  in  that  sense  of  the  term,  that 
regulates  the  distribution  of  wages. 
Stuart.  Yes;  but  after  all  that  sense  is  unusual 
and  strained.  In  the  more  ordinary  meaning  of 
the  term,  the  criterion  of  desert  does  apply.  For 
generally  speaking,  the  man  of  higher  faculties, 
the  man  who  is  more  intelligent,  more  enterpris- 
ing, better  equipped  than  his  fellows,  receives  a 
proportionably  higher  remuneration ;  and  that  is 
just,  and  as  it  should  be. 

Martin.  Whether  it  is  just  I  should  be  inclined 
to  doubt,  unless  it  be  just  that  "  to  him  that 
hath  shall  be  given."  But  whether  or  no  it  be 
just,  is  it  true?  Is  the  bare  possession  of  supe- 
rior powers  enough  to  ensure  to  a  man  a  superior 
wage,  and  vice  versa? 
Stuart.  Broadly,  yes. 

Martin.  I  should  rather  have  said,  broadly,  no. 
For,  as  we  have  seen,  in  addition  to  faculty, 
opportunity  is  essential  to  success;  and  oppor- 
tunity is  distributed  without  any  reference  to 
faculty.  The  son  of  a  rich  man,  though  he 
be  a  fool,  may  be  placed  for  life  in  a  snug  posi- 
tion where  he  may  draw  ten  times  or  a  thousand 
times  the  income  of  a  man  of  great  ability  who 
had  the  misfortune  to  be  born  poor. 
[93] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.   Such  cases  are  exceptional. 
Martin.  Are  they?  That  is  what  I  doubt.  The  ex- 
ceptions at  any  rate,  I  am  sure  are  very  numerous. 
And  even  in  the  cases  where  it  may  be  true  that 
remuneration  is  proportionate  to  faculty,  that  is 
not  the  principle  on  which  wages  are  distributed, 
but  an  accidental  consequence  of  the  principle. 
Stuart.  How  do  you  mean? 

Martin.  Suppose  the  number  of  men  of  first-class 
business  capacity  were  to  be  suddenly  multiplied 
a  hundredfold.  Would  their   remuneration   con- 
tinue the  same? 
Stuart.  No. 

Martin.  Yet  it  should,  if  remuneration  were  meas- 
ured by  capacity.  But  clearly  it  is  not,  it  is 
measured  by  supply  and  demand.  Labour,  under 
our  system,  is  a  commodity  like  any  other.  Its 
price  depends  partly  on  the  cost  of  the  produc- 
tion, partly  on  the  demand  for  it ;  increase  the 
demand,  and  without  altering  the  quality  of  the 
labour  you  enhance  its  price;  diminish  the  de- 
mand, and  without  altering  the  quality  of  the 
labour,  you  reduce  its  price.  If  higher  faculty 
commands  a  higher  wage,  that  is  not  because  the 
faculty  is  higher  but  because  it  is  rarer.  Desert, 
in  any  of  the  senses  we  have  examined,  either 
does  not  come  in  at  all,  or  comes  in  only  inci- 
dentally. Labour  though  it  were  at  once  the  most 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

onerous,  the  most  skilled,  and  the  most  produc- 
tive, might  still  be  paid  at  the  lowest  rate,  or 
might  even  receive  no  pay  at  all,  if  it  were  in 
excess  of  the  demand;  and  similarly,  labour  the 
lightest,  the  most  simple,  and  the  least  productive 
might  receive  the  highest  remuneration  if  one 
could  suppose  the  demand  indefinitely  to  exceed 
the  supply. 

Stuart.  But  the  tendency  must  always  be  for 
supply  and  demand  to  equate  one  another.  Where 
services  are  highly  paid,  more  labour  will  flow 
into  that  line  of  work,  and  vice  versa. 
Martin.  That  might  be  so  in  a  perfectly  fluid 
Society ;  but  of  course  there  is  no  such  Society. 
In  fact,  unskilled  labour  cannot  flow  into  the 
skilled  market,  nor  skilled  labour  into  the  pro- 
fessions or  into  business.  Our  Society,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  an  Oligarchy  of  practically  hereditary 
classes ;  and  these  are  created  and  perpetuated  by 
our  institution  of  property.  A  man's  parentage 
determines  whether  he  shall  have  access  to  a 
crowded  or  a  restricted  labour  market ;  and  that  in 
turn  determines  whether  his  remuneration  shall  be 
low  or  high.  The  sons  of  the  rich  are  thus  put  into 
a  position  to  continue  acquiring  riches ;  the  sons 
of  the  poor  into  a  position  to  continue  to  win  a 
bare  subsistence.  Make  your  exceptions  as  nu- 
merous as  you  like,  this  is  still  the  rule.  There 
[95] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

is  no  principle  in  the  matter  at  all,  there  is  simply 
the  brute  fact. 

Stuart.  I  think  the  ambiguous  word  "  desert  " 
has  led  us  upon  a  false  trail.  There  is  a  principle 
in  the  matter,  whether  or  no  you  call  it  desert. 
A  man's  reward,  roughly  speaking,  is  measured 
by  his  contribution  to  wealth. 
Martin.  I  think  it  would  be  hard  to  show  that. 
What,  for  instance,  is  a  Barrister's  contribution 
to  wealth,  and  what  is  a  dock-labourer's?  Does  a 
barrister  add  anything?  Or  does  he  only  sub- 
tract? 

Stuart.  Of  course  he  adds  something;  business 
couldn't  go  on  without  him.  He's  there  because 
he's  wanted,  and  he's  paid  in  proportion  as  his 
services  are  valued. 

Martin.  And  his  services  are  wanted,  and  valued, 
because  men  are  dishonest,  or  because  the  law  is 
doubtful  and  obscure.  Were  the  community  bet- 
ter organised  there  would  be  no  use  for  him.  He 
does  not  produce ;  at  the  best  he  diminishes  the 
friction  of  production. 

Stuart.  Well,  that  comes  to  the  same  thing. 
Martin.  I  will  not  dispute  it,  as  things  are.  But 
I  will  add  that,  at  the  worst,  when  he  is  engaged, 
as  he  often  is,  in  exaggerating  not  in  settling 
disputes,  he  is  increasing  instead  of  diminishing 

[96] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

the  friction,  and  destroying  rather  than  creating 
wealth. 

Stuart.  No  doubt;  but  that  is  not  the  normal 
case. 

Martin.  Well,  passing  that  point,  and  turning 
now  to  the  dock-labourer,  or  to  any  class  of  man- 
ual workers,  they  at  least  are  in  a  very  direct, 
simple  and  positive  sense  producing  wealth.  Now, 
by  what  process  is  it  decided  that  what  they  pro- 
duce is  worth  sixpence  an  hour,  while  the  barris- 
ter's intervention  to  diminish  or  perhaps  to 
increase  the  friction  of  the  industrial  machine  is 
worth  £10,000  a  year?  Who  makes  the  calcula- 
tion and  apportions  the  shares? 
Stuart.  Those  who  pay  for  the  services,  I  sup- 
pose. 

Martin.  But  surely  they  never  do.  They  pay  as 
much  as  they  must,  and  as  little  as  they  can. 
And  the  only  calculation  they  make  is  whether 
it  is  worth  their  while  to  buy  such  and  such  a 
service  at  such  and  such  a  price.  Or  do  you  sug- 
gest that  if  it  could  be  proved  statistically  that 
the  dock-labourer's  contribution  to  wealth  was 
10  shillings  an  hour,  and  the  barrister's  £100  a 
year,  the.  remuneration  for  their  respective  serv- 
ices would  immediately  be  readjusted  to  that  scale? 
Stuart.  Not  immediately;  but  it  would  in  the 
long  run. 

[97] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  In  the  short  run,  at  any  rate,  you  will 
agree,  and  the  Economists  will  not  deny  it,  that 
contribution  to  wealth  is  not  the  measure  of 
wages;  and  it  is  the  short  run  in  which  actual 
payments  are  made,  and  actual  equities  or  in- 
equities developed.  Omitting  that,  however,  and 
taking  the  long  run,  even  so  the  intervention 
of  friction  of  every  kind  practically  destroys  the 
truth  of  your  contention.  If,  indeed,  everyone, 
in  all  classes,  had  a  perfect  knowledge  of  all  the 
conditions  of  every  labour-market,  and  if,  having 
that  knowledge,  they  were  in  a  position  to  bring 
up  their  children  so  as  to  fit  them  for  any  kind 
of  occupation,  then  it  would  be  true  that  there 
would  be  a  constant  tendency  for  wages  to  be 
measured  by  contribution  to  wealth.  But,  as  it 
is,  nothing  of  the  kind  obtains.  An  unskilled 
labourer  neither  knows  about  the  conditions  of  the 
better  paid  kinds  of  labour,  nor  is  in  a  position  to 
profit  by  his  knowledge,  if  he  did.  Or  can  you 
imagine  him  saying :  "  I  see  barristers  are  paid 
£5,000  a  year,  whereas  I  am  only  getting  an 
uncertain  6d.  an  hour.  I  shall  therefore  make  my 
boy  Bill  a  barrister."  The  thing  is  obviously 
preposterous. 

Stuart.  You  are  taking  a  very  extreme  case. 
Martin.  Yes,  I  am  doing  so  deliberately,  to  make 
my  point.  But  the  point  is  a  real  one.  It  is  only 
[98] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

under  conditions  of  absolutely  free  competition, 
implying  complete  mobility  and  complete  know- 
ledge, that  it  would  be  true  that  wages  are  de- 
termined by  the  measure  of  contribution  to  wealth. 
And  such  a  society,  if  it  existed,  would  seem  to 
you  altogether  paradoxical.  For  in  it,  it  might 
be  manual  labour  of  the  lowest  kind  that  would 
come  first  and  receive  the  highest  reward.  There 
would  be  a  rush  upon  the  more  agreeable  and 
interesting  work,  and  away  from  the  dull  and 
laborious  drudgery.  In  consequence,  the  wages 
of  the  latter  would  rise  until  they  were  high 
enough  to  attract  sufficient  numbers  of  labourers 
to  perform  the  necessary  minimum  of  work.  Low 
grades  of  work,  if  they  could  not  be  replaced  by 
machinery,  would  receive  perhaps  the  highest 
return,  while  barristers,  doctors,  and  professors 
might  get  a  bare  livelihood.  For,  after  all,  it  is 
the  provision  of  necessaries  that  must  always 
come  first ;  and  in  a  society  of  perfectly  free  com- 
petition, those  who  furnish  them  would  certainly 
exact  a  much  higher  wage  than  they  can  obtain 
under  present  conditions.  And  then,  it  might  be 
found,  many  people  in  our  class  would  have  to 
be  dispensed  with  altogether. 
Stuart.  I  suppose  that  might  be  so. 
Martin.  You  see  then,  that  while  our  class-system 
continues,  the  tendency,  on  which  economists  in- 
[99] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

sist,  of  every  kind  of  ability  to  be  paid  in  propor- 
tion to  its  contribution  to  wealth,  is  so  restricted 
and  hampered  that  it  is,  after  all,  only  an  ideal 
indefinitely  remote  from  the  fact.  The  fact,  at 
any  moment,  is  that  scarcity  determines  reward. 
The  more  people  there  are  competing  for  a  piece 
of  work,  the  less  they  get,  and  vice  versa.  And  so- 
ciety is  so  arranged  that  there  are  always  far 
more  people  competing  for  the  more  disagreeable 
and  onerous  tasks,  than  for  the  more  interesting 
and  attractive. 

Stuart.  You  must,  at  least,  in  fairness  admit  that 
there  are  in  existence  much  fewer  people  capable 
of  undertaking  the  higher  than  the  lower  work. 
So  that  the  scarcity  value  is  at  least  a  natural 
and  not  a  social  fact. 

Martin.  Very  likely  there  really  is  a  natural 
scarcity  value  of  high  intelligence.  But  how  great 
that  is  we  cannot  tell  until  we  have  perfectly  free 
competition,  which  involves,  among  other  things, 
that  everyone  should  have  an  equal  chance  of 
developing  whatever  faculties  he  may  possess. 
Stuart.  Well,  what  do  you  say  is  the  conclusion 
of  the  whole  matter? 

Martin.  I  say,  summing  up  my  argument,  and 
subject  to  your  correction,  that  in  our  existing 
society  the  distribution  of  wealth  is  determined, 
to  a  great  extent,  without  any  reference  at  all 
[100] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

to  services  performed,  by  the  family  affections, 
or  it  may  be  the  irrational  caprices  of  rich  people, 
bequeathing  their  fortunes  where  they  choose, 
and  seldom  actuated  in  their  bequests  by  any 
large  view  of  public  policy.  And  this  institution 
of  inheritance  and  bequest,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  the  great  engine  that  perpetuates  inequalities. 
It  also  determines  indirectly  the  distribution  of 
that  part  of  wealth  which  passes  as  remunera- 
tion for  services.  For  it  maintains  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  rich  and  the  poor;  and  on 
that  distinction,  as  we  saw,  ultimately  the  appor- 
tionment of  wages  depends,  the  rich  putting  their 
sons  into  the  market  where  competition  is  less 
and  remuneration  higher,  and  the  poor  being 
compelled  to  put  them  into  the  market  where 
competition  is  keen  and  remuneration  lower. 
The  distribution  of  labour  and  the  distribution 
of  the  rewards  of  labour  are  thus  interconnected 
facts,  determined,  in  the  last  resort,  by  our  insti- 
tution of  property.  And  from  this  institution 
again  results  the  whole  character  of  our  Society. 
Harmgton.  Yes ;  and  because  this  institution  has 
never  been  rightly  ordered,  no  Society  has  been 
rightly  ordered.  Because  of  it  there  always  have 
been,  and  there  still  are,  at  one  end  of  the  scale 
beggars,  thieves  and  outcasts,  at  the  other  de- 
bauchees, imbeciles  and  tyrants.  Because  of  it 
[101] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

every  Society  is  in  a  chronic  condition  of  open  or 
latent  war.  Because  of  it  men's  minds  and  souls 
are  withdrawn  from  all  noble  pursuits  and  concen- 
trated, be  they  rich  or  poor,  on  the  mean  scramble 
for  wealth  or  for  bread.  Because  of  it  all  pro- 
gress is  illusory,  all  culture  hollow,  all  art  pessi- 
mistic or  frivolous,  all  science  sycophantic. 
Because  of  it  no  man's  conscience,  so  long  as 
he  retains  one,  can  be  at  peace.  Because  of  it 
industry  is  oppression,  leisure  extortion,  self-cul- 
ture robbery,  and  family  affection  treason. 
Because  of  it  every  occupation  is  poisoned  and 
every  pleasure  tainted.  Because  of  it  our  Society 
is  not  a  community  of  civilised  men,  but  a  horde 
of  bandits  and  slaves  not  knit  but  aggregated 
together  by  the  mechanical  pressure  of  fear, 
cupidity  and  need. 

Stuart.  Does  it  really  look  as  bad  as  all  that  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  ideal?  If  so,  I'm  glad  I 
cannot  climb  that  mountain.  What  I  see,  from 
my  own  low  elevation,  is  so  much  more  comfort- 
able! 

Harington.  What  do  you  see? 
Stuart.  A  kind  of  grey,  undistinguished  crowd  of 
good-tempered  men  of  business,  most  of  them  in- 
tent on  getting  home  to  the  wife,  or  the  garden, 
or  the  motor-car;  of  diligent  clerks  who  cheer 
the  monotony  of  their  daily  toil  by  reflecting  on 
[102] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

the  eminent  respectability  of  their  semi-detached 
villa  in  the  suburbs ;  of  genial,  more  or  less  sober, 
and  not  too  strenuous  working-men,  full  of  inter- 
est in  the  King  and  the  House  of  Lords,  in  the 
Pink'un  and  the  'Varsity  match,  and  generally 
distrustful  of  labour-leaders  and  socialists;  of 
conscientious  fathers  of  families,  worried  tax- 
payers, tory  publicans,  radical  peers;  the  world, 
in  a  word,  of  the  9  o'clock  train,  the  motor-bus 
and  the  tube.  Is  that  really  the  same  world  that 
you  are  looking  at? 

Harington.  Yes ;  but  you  are  looking  at  the  sur- 
face, and  I  at  the  essential  ethical  facts. 
Stuart.  Give  me  the  surface  then !  on  which,  after 
all,  most  men  live.  Possibly  the  victims  of  our 
system  (as  you  would  call  them)  ought  to  be  as 
indignant  as  you  are;  but  I  am  quite  sure  that 
they  are  not.  They're  all  thinking  about  their 
last  baby,  or  their  next  glass  of  beer. 
Harington.  If  they  are,  that  makes  it  worse,  not 
better. 

Stuart.  Well,  I  don't  believe,  anyhow,  that  they 
would  thank  you  for  your  Aristocracy,  if  you 
could  set  it  up  to-morrow. 

Harington.  Probably  not,  nor  Martin  either  for 
his  Democracy.  But  it  is  indisputable  that  either 
would  be  much  better  than  what  we  have  got. 
And  you  yourself  have  practically  admitted  it; 
[103] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

for  you  didn't  make  much  of  a  defence  of  the 
existing  order. 

(5)  The  equi-  Stuart.  I  might  have  made  a  better  one,  perhaps. 
table  dis-  But,  to  show  how  candid  I  am,  I  admit  that,  when 
tribution  all  is  said  and  done,  I  cannot  pretend  that  our 
of  the  system  of  distribution  is  equitable.  But  then  I 
products  doubt  whether  one  more  equitable  could  be  de- 
of  labour,  vised. 

Martin.  May  we  then  go  on  now,  Harington  and 
I,  to  explain  what  we  think  would  be  equitable, 
or  otherwise  desirable,  in  the  communities  we  are 
constructing? 

Stuart.  That,  of  course,  is  what  I  am  waiting  for. 
Martin.  Well,  we  must  go  very  warily  here,  for 
we  are  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  enemies  lying 
in  wait  in  every  bush  and  thicket,  Socialists  here, 
Economists  there,  ready  to  pounce  out  upon  us  at 
the  least  false  step,  and  all  knowing  the  ground 
so  well,  and  all  the  paths  of  error  and  confusion. 
What  do  you  say,  Harington?  Which  way  are 
we  to  try  ? 

Harington.  You  must  take  the  lead  and  I  shall 
follow  you  as  far  as  I  can. 

Martin.  Can  we  agree  upon  this,  then,  as  a  fairly 
safe  beginning :  —  in  a  well-ordered  community 
no  able-bodied  person  ought  to  receive  anything 
except  as  the  direct  reward  of  his  labour?  That 
seems  to  me  innocent  and  reasonable. 
[104] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Harington.  I  will  accept  it,  subject  only  to  the 
understanding  that  in  my  Aristocracy  the  work 
of  the  governing  class  is  the  most  important  of 
all ;  and  that  they  must  be  well  paid  for  it. 
Martin.  But  how  well?  Plato,  if  you  follow  him, 
laid  it  down  that  his  Guardians  should  have  only 
the  bare  necessaries  of  life,  on  the  ground  that 
the  possession  of  wealth  would  pervert  them  from 
their  proper  function. 

Harington.  That  is  where  I  part  company  from 
him.  He  had  in  him  a  strain  of  asceticism  which 
I  cannot  approve.  He  excludes  from  his   ideal 
polity  all  art,  all  magnificence,  all  beauty,  save 
that  which  is  moral.  My  object,  on  the  contrary, 
is  to  provide  on  the  grandest  possible  scale  for  all 
that  aspect  of  life.  Governing  is  only  a  second- 
ary function  of  my  Guardians.  Primarily  they 
are  there  to  fulfil  the  ideal  of  Humanity,  not  for 
their  own  sake  only,  but  for  that  of  the  commu- 
nity. They  are  the  representative  men ;  and  they 
must  have  all  the  resources  they  require  to  play 
that  part.  They  must  have  great  houses,  gar- 
dens,   parks,    sculpture,    paintings;    their    dress 
must  be  rich  and  beautiful,  their  persons  mag- 
nificent, their  retinue  superb.  They  must  be  like 
Renaissance  princes  rather  than  Platonic  philoso- 
phers. And  for  that,  of  course,  they  must  have 
great  wealth. 

[105] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  I  see.  In  your  polity,  then,  the  claims  of 
the  governing  class  will  be  unique.  There  will  be 
no  principle  common  to  them  and  the  rest  of  the 
community,  to  regulate  the  distribution  of  wealth. 
They  come  first  and  take  what  they  require;  and 
then  come  the  producers. 

Harlngton.  Yes ;  they  will  be  a  wealthy  class,  but 
a  class  deserving  to  be  wealthy,  because  they 
know  how  to  use  wealth  for  great  ends.  They  will 
represent  for  the  community  the  grace,  the 
beauty,  the  splendour  of  life,  so  that  their  wealth 
will  be  a  public  function,  not  a  private  luxury, 
casting  a  reflected  light  upon  the  masses,  who  do 
not  directly  participate  in  it,  and  making  them 
glad  and  proud  to  live  because  there  is  above  them, 
and  in  view,  a  life  that  is  so  good  in  itself. 
Whereas,  in  your  Democracy,  as  I  see  it  —  and 
this  is  my  chief  objection  —  though  there  may  be 
equity,  there  will  be  no  greatness ;  and  your  cit- 
izens will  suffer  dumbly,  without  knowing  why, 
from  the  monotonous  meanness  of  their  lives. 
Martin.  You  forget  that  I  conceive  them  to  have 
a  liberal  education  and  ample  leisure ;  and,  many 
of  them,  to  devote  their  spare  time  to  works  of 
art  and  imagination.  The  general  interest  and 
delight  in  life  which  would  be  fostered  by  the 
conditions  I  have  in  view  would  naturally  call 
[106] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

for  expression  on  the  part  of  those  possess- 
ing the  gift.  Artists  and  poets  and  philosophers 
would  not  be,  as  now,  people  set  apart  from  the 
main  current  of  life,  and  obsessed  too  often  by 
personal,  morbid  and  egotistical  emotions;  they 
would  be  constantly  fertilised  and  refreshed  by 
the  stream  of  common  experience,  and  thus  have 
at  once  more  to  express  and  a  keener  impulse  to 
express  it.  Art  would  be  corporate  instead  of  in- 
dividual ;  and  would  find  embodiment,  not  as  you 
propose,  in  the  palaces,  galleries  and  gardens  of 
a  wealthy  caste,  but  in  public  buildings,  public 
parks,  public  festivals  and  possessions.  It  would 
be  the  art  of  ancient  Athens  rather  than  of  papal 
Rome;  but  need  it  fear  the  comparison? 
Harlngton.  Athens  was  not  a  Democracy  in  your 
sense. 

Martin.  No;  but  if  it  had  been,  its  legacy  of 
beauty  and  wisdom  and  power  might  have  been 
richer,  not  poorer,  than  it  is. 
Harmgton.  Plato  and  Aristotle  did  not  think  so. 
Martin.    Plato     and    Aristotle    never    conceived 
Democracy  as  I  am  conceiving  it.  And,  for  that 
matter,  you  yourself  turn  out  to  be  no  more  a 
Platonist  or  an  Aristotelian  than  I  am. 
Harmgton.  I  think  I  might  claim  to  be  an  Aris- 
totelian, if  not  a  Platonist. 
[107] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  Never  mind  Aristotle  and  Plato !  Modern 
philosophers  are  bad  enough  without  dragging 
in  the  ancients  at  every  point. 
Martin.  You  hear  him,  Harington ;  we  must  be 
careful,  or  he  will  join  the  ambushed  enemy.  Let 
us  get  on.  I  will  grant  you  your  point  about 
your  governing  class ;  they  shall  be  set  aside  as  an 
exception.  But  now,  what  about  the  rest  of  the 
community?  No  one,  we  agreed,  was  to  receive 
anything  except  as  the  reward  of  his  labour. 
Harington.  Yes. 

Martin.  It  follows  then,  immediately,  does  it  not, 
that  no  one  will  be  allowed  to  inherit  wealth,  or 
to  live  upon  rent,  or  interest?  For  these,  accord- 
ing to  our  analysis,  are  payments  made  without 
reference  to  any  return  in  labour. 
Harington.  Yes. 

Martin.  We  are  led,  then,  are  we  not,  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  property  whence  rent  and  interest 
accrues  must  not  belong  to  private  persons? 
Harington.  I  suppose  so. 

Martin.  And  the  fact  that   inheritance  is   ruled 
out  leads  to  the  same  conclusion.  For  under  that 
arrangement  the  property  now  owned  by  private 
persons  must  revert  to  the  Community. 
Harington.  We    shall   be    landed   then,   by    this 
route,  in  what  is  called  Collectivism. 
Stuart.  There  you  are ! 

[108] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  There,  as  you  say,  we  are,  or  there  at 
least  I  am  for  the  present.  But  I  am  not  quite 
sure  about  Harington. 

Harington.  Nor  am  I.  Indeed,  it  seems  clear, 
when  one  reflects,  that  the  ownership  of  property 
by  the  Community  is  incompatible  with  such  an 
Aristocracy  as  I  am  building  up.  For  the  owner- 
ship of  property,  under  modern  conditions,  car- 
ries with  it  all  other  power ;  and  the  ownership  of 
property  by  the  Community  implies  Democracy. 
Martin.  What  do  you  propose  to  do  then? 
Harington.  I  must  vest  property,  I  suppose,  in 
my  governing  class,  who  must  administer  it  in 
trust  for  the  Community. 

Martin.  They  will  be,  then,  much  more  like  Car- 
lyle's  "  Captains  of  Industry,"  or  Comte's  "  In- 
dustriels "  than  like  Plato's  "  Guardians."  And 
the  main  part  of  their  governing  function  will  be 
industrial  organisation. 

Harington.  Yes.  But  of  course  they  will  employ 
trained  subordinates.  Their  own  position  will  be 
analogous  to  that  of  Directors  of  Companies. 
Martin.  Whereas,  in  my  Democracy,  where  there 
is  no  governing  class,  it  must  be  the  Community 
itself  that  will  own  land  and  capital.  That  is  a 
great  distinction  between  the  two  polities.  They 
will,  however,  both  have  before  them  the  same 
problem,  how  to  distribute  the  products  of  labour 
[109] 


(a)  Distribu- 
tion ac- 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

among  those  who  are  entitled  to  receive  them.  So 
here  we  are  once  more  back  at  the  danger-point. 
Harington.  Well,  start  again. 
Martin.  No  able-bodied  person,  we  agreed,  is  en- 
cording  to  titled  to  receive  anything  except  as  a  reward  for 
need.  labour.  But  there  are  always,  of  course,  a  num- 

ber of  people  who  are  not  able-bodied,  children, 
and  the  aged,  and  the  sick.  And  these,  we  shall 
probably  agree,  must  receive,  so  far  as  possible, 
according  to  their  needs. 
Harington.  Yes. 

Martin.  The  question  of  women  also  arises  at  this 
point.  For  they,  at  any  rate  while  they  are  bear- 
ing and  rearing  children,  cannot  and  ought  not 
to  be  expected  to  do  any  other  work. 
Harington.  No,  but  the  work  of  child-bearing, 
so  dangerous  and  painful,  deserves  reward  more 
than  any  other. 

Martin.  I   agree.  Whatever   payments    then    of 
that  kind  may  be  made  should  be  regarded  as 
rewards  for  labour,  not  as  concessions  to  need? 
Harington.  I  should  say  so. 

Martin.  Very  good.  Having  marked  off  then  a 
class  of  people  who  are  to  receive  according  to 
cording  to    their  needs,  without  being  asked  for  any  return 
in  labour,  we  will  go  on  to  the  more  controversial 
point  which  concerns  the  able-bodied.  And  first,  let 
us  take  the  simplest  case  and  suppose  we  are  deal- 
[110] 


(6)  Distribu- 
tion ac- 


desert. 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

ing  with  people  doing  the  same  kind  of  work. 
On  what  principle  shall  we  apportion  wages 
among  them? 

Harington.  The  most  reasonable  plan,  clearly, 
would  be  to  apportion  according  to  product. 
Martin.  I  don't  think  that  is  really  so  reasonable 
as  it  appears  at  first  sight.  Because  the  product 
depends  not  only  upon  the  labourer,  but  upon  the 
raw  material,  the  site,  the  climate,  the  machinery 
and  all  sorts  of  other  such  conditions.  For  in- 
stance, one  seam  of  coal  is  easier  to  work  than  an- 
other ;  one  piece  of  land  is  more  naturally  pro- 
ductive than  another;  one  site  is  more  favourable 
than  another,  and  so  on.  And  there  seems  no 
reason  why,  in  a  society  aiming  at  equity, 
some  particular  set  of  workers  should  be  credited 
and  debited  with  these  adventitious  advantages 
and  disadvantages.  To  do  so  would,  in  fact,  be 
contrary  to  the  principle  we  began  by  accepting, 
for  it  would  in  effect  be  distributing  rent  to  cer- 
tain privileged  labourers. 
Harington.  I  suppose  that  is  true. 
Martin.  And  then,  there  is  another  point.  Some 
workers,  we  must  suppose,  will  be  stronger,  or 
more  intelligent,  or  otherwise  more  efficient  than 
others.  Are  they  to  have  the  benefit  of  these  ad- 
vantages ? 

[Ill] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Harlngton.  I  suppose  it  would  be  only  just  that 
they  should. 

Martin.  But  would  it?  That  is  a  fundamental 
point.  For  after  all,  these  superiorities  are  acci- 
dental gifts  of  nature,  just  as  much  as  soil  and 
climate  and  site.  And  why  should  a  man  thus  for- 
tunately endowed  be  entitled  also  to  a  higher 
wage? 

Harlngton.  There  seems  to  be  here  a  conflict  of 
equities.  It  seems  just,  on  the  one  hand,  that  a 
man  should  receive  in  proportion  to  his  contribu- 
tion in  labour ;  and,  on  the  other,  that  adventitious 
natural  advantages  should  not  count  in  estimat- 
ing rewards. 

Martin.  A  society  would  have  to  choose  one  or 
the  other  principle  and  it  is  not  very  obvious 
which  one  is  right.  But  I  think  it  is  helpful,  in 
these  cases,  to  ask  oneself  what  would  be  the 
course  adopted  in  a  society  of  friends,  to  which, 
as  far  as  possible,  all  societies,  in  my  opinion 
ought  to  approximate.  Do  you  think  that,  if  you 
and  your  best  friends  kept  joint  household,  and 
made,  as  you  probably  would,  unequal  contribu- 
tions to  the  common  stock,  those  who  were  more 
efficient  would  think  it  right  and  desirable  to  claim 
a  proportionately  higher  share  of  the  joint  in- 
come? 

Harlngton.  No ;  but  I  suppose,  in  such  a  case, 
[112] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

the  question  might  hardly  arise.  The  natural  ar- 
rangement would  be  a  kind  of  communism  where 
each  took  what  he  most  wanted,  as  indeed  is  the 
case  in  many  families. 

Martin.  It  is  true,  I  think,  that  in  a  perfect  so- 
ciety that  would  be  the  rule.  But  we  shall  lose 
Stuart's  attention  and  respect  for  ever  if  we  sup- 
pose such  perfection  as  that.  What  then,  would 
be  the  next  best  course,  in  a  society  of  friends? 
Would  it  not  be  to  measure  reward  not  by  pro- 
duct but  by  effort,  so  that  anyone,  though  he 
were  weaker  or  stupider  than  the  others,  if  he 
were  working  equally  hard,  would  be  entitled  to 
an  equal  share  ?  In  that  way  one  would  discourage 
deliberate  idleness. 

Harington.  That  seems  to  me,  certainly,  a  more 
friendly  arrangement  than  the  other. 
Martin.  And  would  it  be  less  just? 
Harington.  No,  I  do  not  think  it  would. 
Martin.  And  I  think  it  would  be  more  just.  Shall 
we  then  accept  that  principle,  and  see  what  fol- 
lows? 

Harington.  I  am  content. 

Martin.    It   follows    then,    does    it   not,   that   a 
weaker  or  stupider  man,  working  harder  than  one 
who  is  stronger  and  more  intelligent,  but  produc- 
ing less,  ought  to  receive  a  higher  wage? 
Harington.  Yes. 

[113] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  And  I  think,  further,  that  on  the  same 
principle  it  would  follow  that  the  kinds  of  work 
that  are  more  disagreeable  and  tedious  and  ex- 
hausting, ought  to  be  paid  proportionately 
higher.  For  the  principle  on  which  we  are  pro- 
ceeding is,  that  rewards  should  be  proportionate 
not  to  output,  nor  to  faculty,  but  to  painful  ef- 
fort incurred? 
Har'mgton.  Yes. 

Martin.  But  hark !  do  you  not  hear  the  arrows  of 
all  the  Economists  in  ambush  whistling  about  our 
heads?  What  are  we  to  do?  Shall  we  ignore 
them,  and  go  on,  only  admitting,  in  case  it  should 
appease  them,  that  this  principle,  like  any  other, 
would  be  difficult  to  apply  in  detail,  and  might  be 
subject  to  many  exceptions  and  uncertainties;  but 
insisting  that,  if  adopted,  it  would  certainly  lead 
to  quite  different  results  from  any  other ;  so  that  it 
really  is  a  guiding  principle,  which  it  is  very  sig- 
nificant and  important  to  lay  down? 
Harlngton.  I  ajn  quite  ready  to  go  on.  I'm  not 
afraid  of  the  Economists. 

Martin.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  as  well  as  I 
how  formidable  they  are.  For  my  own  part  I 
never  like  to  have  them  against  me.  However,  we 
must  do  our  best  to  get  on  and  dodge  them,  if 
we  can.  We  were  speaking,  were  we  not,  of  the 
distribution  of  rewards  among  people  working 
[114] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

at  the  same  or  similar  tasks ;  and  if  we  are  to  ap- 
ply our  principle  here,  where  the  character  of  the 
work,  agreeable  or  the  reverse,  is  the  same  for  all, 
we  shall  have  to  say  that  they  ought  to  be  paid 
in  proportion  to  the  amount  not  of  their  product, 
but  of  their  efforts. 

Stuart.  And  how  are  you  going  to  determine 
that? 

Martin.  There  you  see !  That  was  one  of  the 
Economists'  arrows.  What  are  we  going  to  do 
about  it? 

Harington.  Pull  it  out,  and  come  on ! 
Martin.  There's  only  one  way  of  pulling  it  out, 
and  that  is  by  making  a  concession.  I  do  agree 
that,  in  the  same  job,  it  would  be  difficult,  in  any 
detail,  to  apportion  wages  to  effort.  Some  gen- 
eral system  of  wages,  time  or  piece,  there  would 
have  to  be;  and  to  make  numerous  exceptions  to 
it  would  be  too  complicated  to  be  practicable, 
though  provision  might  and  should  be  made 
roughly  to  secure  that  no  one  was  penalised  by 
age  or  sex.  On  the  whole,  however,  I  am  ready  in 
this  matter  to  sacrifice  to  expediency  what  our 
principle  asserts  to  be  justice,  to  pay  according 
to  a  general  scale,  and  let  the  workers  secure  the 
rental  value  of  their  natural  advantages. 
Harington.  Do  as  you  like. 

Martin.  But  then  I  intend  to  be  all  the  stiffer 
[115] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

about  the  application  of  our  principle  to  the  next 
case,  that  of  workers  in  quite  different  occupa- 
tions. It  will  give  us  results  that  sound  very 
paradoxical ;  but  I  mean  to  adhere  to  them  brave- 
ly, however  much  we  are  assailed. 
Harington.  What  is  it  that  is  so  paradoxical? 
Martin.  Remember  what  we  said  before,  that,  as 
things  are  now,  all  the  occupations  that  are  most 
interesting,  stimulating  and  delightful,  that  em- 
ploy the  highest  faculties,  and  are  the  most  worth 
doing  for  their  own  sake,  are,  broadly  speaking, 
the  best  paid,  while  those  that  are  sordid,  dreary, 
mechanical,  dehumanising,  hardly  receive  a  liv- 
ing wage.  Is  not  this  a  fact  which  the  Economists 
themselves  must  admit  if  they  are  candid?  I 
hope  they  hear  what  I  am  saying  behind  the 
trees ! 

Harington.  I,  at  any  rate,  do  not  dispute  it. 
Martin.  Well,  but  in  a  society  regulated  by  our 
principle,  is  it  not  clear  that  exactly  the  opposite 
will  be  the  case?  That  it  is  the  sordid,  dreary, 
physically  and  morally  exhausting  work  that  will 
be  the  highest  paid,  and  the  nobler  and  more  de- 
lightful kinds  the  lowest? 

Harington.  Certainly  that  follows,  and  it  seems 
to  me  to  be  just. 

Martin.  We  shall  have  then  a  scale  of  wages  run- 
[116] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

ning  the  opposite  way  to  the  present  scale;  and 
perhaps  bankers  like  Stuart  will  be  getting  6d. 
an  hour,  and  dock-labourers  £5000  a  year. 
Stuart.  You  had  better  duck  as  quick  as  possible, 
or  you'll  have  a  fine  whizz  of  arrows  about  your 
ears! 

Martin.  I've  ducked,  but  I  stick  to  my  proposi- 
tion. I  shout  it  in  the  ears  of  the  enemy !  Come 
on,  Stuart!  What  have  you  got  to  say? 
Stuart.  Oh,  nothing  of  importance!  Only  to 
point  out  that,  under  such  a  scale,  you  will  get  no 
one  to  do  the  higher  kinds  of  work  at  all ! 
Martin.  Should  I  not?  But  why  not?  If  you 
had  to  choose  between  being  the  director  of  a 
business  at  a  low  wage,  or  a  flusher  of  sewers  at 
a  high  one,  would  not  you  be  likely  to  choose  the 
former?  Of  course,  as  things  are,  you  demand 
£5000  a  year,  because  you  can  get  it !  But  if  you 
couldn't  get  it?  Or  couldn't  get  it  except  by  do- 
ing some  work  you  loathed?  Clear  your  mind  of 
the  preconceptions  you  have  derived  from  existing 
conditions,  and  my  scale  will  not  seem  to  you  so 
absurd. 

Stuart.  But  it's  clear  anyhow,  if  I  am  to  take 
you  seriously  for  a  moment,  that  the  higher  kinds 
of  work  require  for  their  efficiency  a  higher 
salary. 

[117] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

'Martin.  I  assume  that  my  community  will  not  be 
so  stupid  as  to  offer  a  wage  below  the  level  of 
efficiency.  In  that  respect  it  will  be  more  intelli- 
gent, I  trust,  than  the  society  in  which  we  live. 
For,  as  things  are,  many  of  the  higher  kinds  of 
work  are  paid  much  more  than  is  required  for 
their  efficiency,  and  many  of  the  lower  much  less. 
Stuart.  You  admit  then  that  your  principle 
would  have  to  be  modified  by  this  other  principle 
of  efficiency? 

Martin.  Certainly.  I  am  not  assuming  a  society 
of  unpractical  pedants,  but  one  that  will  aim  at 
as  much  equity  as  is  found  to  be  compatible  with 
efficiency.  The  mere  fact,  however,  that  it  may 
be  necessary  to  qualify  one's  principles  does  not 
make  it  any  less  important  to  lay  them  down. 
Have  you  any  other  objection? 
Stuart.  I  have  one  which  includes  all  others  — 
that  I  can't  imagine  how  such  a  system  would 
work ;  or  how,  or  by  whom,  such  a  scale  of  wages 
could  be  devised  and  enforced. 
Martin.  That  is,  of  course,  a  real  difficulty ;  and 
when  we  come  to  deal  with  it,  we  may  find  we  have 
to  modify  our  principle  of  equity.  Meantime, 
however,  I  wanted  to  lay  down  what  the  principle 
seems  to  me  to  be,  reserving  the  question  of  how 
it  might  be  carried  out.  On  the  principle  itself 
have  you  anything  else  to  say  ? 
[118] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  Of  course  I  have !  I  have  everything !  I      (6)  Th°  rc*°- 
don't  know  where  to  begin,  or  end!  But  take  this  tion  °f  th* 

point,   which   is   absolutely   fundamental.    Under  productive. 

your  system,  as  I  understand,  rent  and  interest  fV  °f  Ex~ 

being  ruled  out,  and  inheritance  forbidden,  it  will  toting  80- 

be  impossible  for  any  one  to  accumulate  a  for-  cietV  to 

tune;  and  those  who  have  most  will  be  broadly  ita  »y*tem 

those  who  do  the  least  skilled  and  most  laborious  °f  Pr°P~ 

work.  «rty- 

Martin.  Yes. 

Stuart.  Very  well,  then  what  becomes  of  the  stim- 
ulus to  production?  The  world  is  kept  progress- 
ing, from  the  economic  point  of  view,  by  the 
chance  given  to  able  men  of  making  great  for- 
tunes. Take  away  that  motive,  and  everything 
flags.  And  what  is  the  use  then  of  all  your  elab- 
orate system  of  distribution,  when  there  is  prac- 
tically nothing  left  to  distribute? 
Martin.  Nothing? 

Stuart.  Well,  nothing  to  speak  of.  Are  yom 
aware  that,  at  this  moment,  if  you  divided  equally 
the  income  of  this  country,  there  would  only  be 
about  £40  a  head? 

Martin.  I  have  heard  something  of  the  kind. 
Stuart.  Well  then,  don't  you  see  that  the  problem 
of  distribution  is  really  negligible,  compared  with 
that  of  production?  And  if  your  reformed  so- 

[119] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

ciety  is  going  to  check  production,  its  scheme  of 
distribution  will  be  worse  than  useless. 
Martin.  No  one  who  believes,  as  both  Haring- 
ton  and  I  do,  in  a  society  which  is  based  upon 
material  well-being,  will  deny  the  importance  of 
maintaining  production.  But  that,  surely,  is  a 
technical,  rather  than  a  social  problem,  and  lies 
outside  our  range  of  inquiry. 

Stuart.  Not  at  all ;  it  is  a  social  problem.  I  main- 
tain that  the  particular  system  of  property  which 
now  prevails  is  peculiarly  favourable  to  produc- 
tion ;  and  that  the  system  you  suggest  would  be 
peculiarly  unfavourable. 

Martin.  Well,  let  us  see  if  that  is  really  so.  Your 
contention,   as   I   understand,    is   that   the    main 
stimulus  to  production  is  profit,  and  that  no  man 
will  put  forth  all  his  powers  unless   he  sees  a 
chance  of  making  a  fortune. 
Stuart.  Yes,  broadly  that  is  true. 
Martin.  And  would  you  also  assert  that  no  man 
will  put  forth  his  powers  if  he  can  get  all  he 
wants  by  doing  nothing? 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  In  that  case,  our  system  of  property, 
in  so  far  as  it  gives  people  incomes  without  requir- 
ing any  return  in  labour  is,  on  your  own  show- 
ing, unfavourable  to  production ;  and  inheritance, 
and  interest,  and  rent  are  as  unjustifiable  from 
[120] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

this  point  of  view  as  from  that  of  distribution. 
Stuart.  Not  at  all !  Everyone  knows  that  inher- 
itance is  a  great  stimulus  to  production,  because 
people  continue  to  work  and  save  for  the  sake  of 
their  families,  even  when  they  have  earned  all  they 
want  for  themselves. 

Martin.  Even  if  that  were  as  true  and  as  impor- 
tant as  is  generally  assumed,  you  must  still  set 
against  it  the  fact  that  the  heirs  of  great  wealth 
are,  so  far,  on  your  own  contention,  directly  dis- 
couraged from  production.  I  don't  know,  and  I 
don't  see  how  anyone  could  calculate,  which  of 
these  factors  counts  for  most;  but  I  submit 
that  it  is  at  least  not  obvious  that  the  power  to 
bequeath  wealth  is  more  of  a  stimulus  to  produc- 
tion than  the  reverse. 

Stuart.  There  is  no  doubt  whatever  about  it. 
Martin.  Is  that  so?  How  do  you  strike  the  bal- 
ance? I  will  however  admit  that  our  system  en- 
courages energy ;  only,  let  us  see  more  precisely 
how.  And  first,  the  source  of  the  energy  is,  is  it 
not,  in  your  view,  simply  the  passion  of  cupidity? 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  And  this  cupidity  works,  first,  in  a  more 
passive  form,  among  all  the  people  who  have  any 
sum,  great  or  small,  to  invest ;  and  then,  more  in- 
tensely and  actively,  among  those  who  make  it 

[121] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

their  business   to   create   and   foster   enterprises, 
that  is,  financiers  and  capitalists. 
Stuart.  Well? 

Martin.  Well,  these  men,  clearly,  whatever  else 
they  are,  are  not  the  originators  of  ideas.  It  is 
not  they  who  are  the  discoverers  and  inventors, 
but  quite  a  different  kind  of  man,  the  sort  of  per- 
son they  despise  as  academic  and  unpractical, 
actuated  by  a  passion  which  also  they  would  de- 
spise, if  they  could  comprehend  it,  the  love  of 
truth.  Dalton  and  Faraday,  Clark  Maxwell  and 
Kelvin,  these  men  were  not  financiers,  nor  capital- 
ists, nor  were  they  moved  by  cupidity ;  yet  it  is 
upon  them  and  their  like,  more  than  upon  any- 
thing else,  that  the  progress  of  production  de- 
pends. 

Stuart.  Granted,  in  the  last  resort.  But  it  is  the! 
capitalists  who  supply  the  stimulus  and  the  means 
and  the  intelligence  to  apply  discoveries  and  in- 
ventions successfully  to  the  practical  arts. 
Harington.  That  they  may  take  all  the  profits 
themselves  and  squeeze  out  the  inventor !  The 
function  of  the  financier,  backed  by  the  dividend- 
hunting  public,  is  to  exploit  the  man  of  genius, 
and  deprive  him  of  his  reward. 
Stuart.  You  can  put  it  so  if  you  like ;  but  I  in- 
sist that  it  is  a  socially  useful  and  indeed  indis- 
pensable function. 

[  122] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  But  one  that  might  perhaps  be  otherwise 
performed  and  in  a  way  more  profitable  to  the 
community. 

Stuart.  That  is  what  I  deny. 

Martin.  But  consider;  the  one  motive  of  the  ex- 
ploiter being  to  make  money  for  himself  and  in- 
cidentally for  his  shareholders,  he  and  they  will 
always  be  ready  to  make  it  at  all  cost  to  society. 
It  will  not  matter  to  them  whether  what  they  pro- 
duce is  a  good  thing  or  a  bad  thing,  so  long  as  it 
is  one  for  which,  by  fair  means  or  foul,  they  can 
create  a  demand.  They  are  as  likely  to  devote 
their  energies  to  poisoning  the  community  as  to 
feeding  it,  if  the  community,  as  is  unfortunately 
apt  to  be  the  case,  responds  to  the  invitation  to 
be  poisoned. 

Stuart.  The  root  of  that  evil  is  that  people  have 
perverted  desires,  not  that  other  people  give  them 
the  means  to  gratify  them. 

Martin.  My  point  is  that,  under  this  system  of 
production,  prompted  by  the  cupidity  of  irre- 
sponsible people,  bad  desires  just  as  much  as 
good  ones  are  evoked  and  converted  into  ef- 
fective demands.  For  it  must  always  be  remem- 
bered that  supply  determines  demand  at  least  as 
much  as  demand  supply ;  and  that  intelligent  men 
armed  with  capital  may  alter  indefinitely  the 
taste  and  morals  of  a  nation.  One  sees  it  con- 
[123] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

stantly  whenever  the  West  comes  into  contact 
with  the  East.  The  immediate  effect  is  the  disap- 
pearance of  all  taste  and  beauty  in  the  arts,  and 
the  substitution  of  inferior  western  for  superior 
native  goods  by  the  joint  operation  of  greed  at 
the  one  end  and  cheapness  at  the  other. 
Stuart.  The  capitalist  is  only  giving  scope  to 
desires  that  are  already  there  waiting  for  satis- 
faction. 

Martin.  Or  say  that  he  plays  on  the  instrument 
the  tune  he  prefers,  and  that  his  tune  is  apt  to  be 
very  low  and  vulgar.  Nay,  when  he  comes  to 
deal  with  uncivilised  peoples,  what  he  plays  is  a 
dance  of  death ;  for  he  does  quite  deliberately,  and 
with  a  clear  conscience,  exterminate  them  by  cheap 
gin  unless  the  public  authority  intervenes.  I  will 
not  however  labour  this  point ;  but  I  will  ask  you 
to  bear  it  in  mind  as  part  of  the  case.  And  also 
to  bear  in  mind  this :  it  is  no  part  of  the  capital- 
ist's aim  to  husband  the  resources  of  any  commu- 
nity. If  he  can  pay  big  dividends,  say  for  fifty 
years,  that  is  all  he  need  trouble  about.  The  fu- 
ture of  a  country  or  a  society  is  nothing  to  him, 
for  he  will  not  be  there  to  make  money  out  of  it. 
So  that,  for  instance,  he  will  always  be  in  a  fever- 
ish haste  to  exploit  natural  wealth  at  all  and 
every  cost  to  the  community.  He  will  cut  down  its 
forests,  exhaust  its  mines,  spoil  its  climate,  and 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

ruin  its  population  body  and  soul  —  as  was  done 
in  this  country  and  in  all  countries  during  the  in- 
dustrial revolution  until  the  State  stepped  in  to 
stop  it,  and  as  is  being  done  before  our  eyes  at  this 
moment  in  the  Congo  Free  State,  not  to  speak  of 
cases  nearer  home.  All  this  he  will  do  without 
ruth,  without  shame,  without  reflexion  even,  if, 
in  his  short-sighted  book-keeping,  it  seems  to 
pay  him  to  do  it. 

Stuart.  You  make  him  a  kind  of  monster ! 
Martin.  Not  at  all!  I  credit  him  with  being  a 
good  father  of  a  family,  a  church-goer,  a  giver 
to  charities,  a  sportsman,  a  member  of  Parliament. 
He's  no  worse  than  you  or  me  or  any  shareholder. 
But  the  system  of  providing  in  this  particular 
way  the  stimulus  to  and  the  direction  of  produc- 
tion does  lead  to  these  consequences,  and  they  must 
be  set  off  against  its  undoubted  efficacy  as  a  devel- 
oper of  energy  and  intelligence. 
Stuart.  I  think  you  exaggerate  enormously. 
Martin.  My  dear  Stuart,  it  is  your  constant  cry ! 
Perhaps  I  do,  perhaps  I  do  not ;  there  is  no  scale 
to  weigh  the  truth  upon.  It  is  enough  for  me  to 
have  reminded  you  of  what  you  cannot  honestly 
deny,  that  our  method  of  flinging  upon  the  re- 
sources and  the  populations  of  the  world  the  un- 
conscionable greed  of  capital,  is  open  to  these  very 
grave  objections.  I  might  add  others,  and  espe- 
[125] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

cially  those  which  are  recognised  as  the  "  wastes 
of  competition,"  advertisement,  overproduction, 
adulteration,  commissions  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 
But  I  have  said  enough  to  remind  you  that  the 
price  paid  for  our  method  of  stimulating  produc- 
tion is  a  pretty  heavy  one. 

Stuart.  Of  course  there  is  a  debit  side  to  the  ac- 
count. 

Martin.  Yes,  and  not  a  small  one ;  and  we  have  not 
yet  completed  our  summary  of  it.  For  if  now  we 
turn  from  entrepreneurs  and  capitalists  and  in- 
vestors and  their  operations  to  the  great  mass  of 
working  people,  here  too  what  waste  do  we  find! 
Stuart.  Where,  exactly? 

Martin.  Well,  to  begin  with  we  have  always  with 
us  a  large  number  of  paupers ;  and  they,  of 
course,  are  not  productive. 

Stuart.  They  are,  for  the  most  part,  aged  and 
sick  people,  who  in  any  case  would  not  produce. 
Martin.  But  also  there  is  a  large  class  of  per- 
manent loafers  and  tramps. 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  And  a  great  number  of  people  who  are 
unemployed,  at  least  for  some  portion  of  the 
year. 

Stuart.  Yes  and  it  is  very  regrettable;  but  these 
are  not  results  of  the  institution  of  property. 
Martin.    Not    directly,    perhaps,    but    indirectly. 
"[126] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Bad  houses,  bad  education,  lack  of  opportunity 
and  pressure  of  need,  in  other  words,  poverty, 
are  responsible,  at  least  as  much  as  original  sin, 
for  the  creation  of  the  class  of  the  unemployable. 
And  poverty  is  the  other  side  of  riches,  and  both 
are  aspects  of  property.  And  as  to  the  tempor- 
arily unemployed,  they  too  are  the  victims  of  a 
system  which  gives  to  private  persons,  working 
for  their  own  profit,  the  control  of  the  natural 
resources  of  the  earth  and  of  the  accumulated 
products  of  labour,  while  divorcing  them  from  all 
public  responsibility  for  their  trust.  No  economic 
fact  can  be  dissociated  from  the  institution  of 
property ;  and  if  you  are  to  claim  for  it  what  you 
regard  as  its  advantages,  you  must  permit  me  to 
point  out  its  drawbacks. 
Stuart.  I  am  permitting  you. 
Martin.  The  existence,  then,  in  our  society  of 
large  numbers  who  need  not,  of  others  who  will 
not,  and  others  who  cannot  work,  must  be  set  off 
against  its  claim  to  stimulate  production. 
Stuart.  Still  these,  after  all,  and  in  fairness,  are 
exceptions. 

Martin.  Very  well ;  let  us  turn  then  to  what  may 
be  said  to  be  the  normal  fact,  the  great  body  of 
active  workers  in  full  employment.  The  bulk  of 
these  are,  no  doubt,  kept  continually  at  work,  not 
however,  by  the  chance  of  a  great  fortune,  but  by 
[127] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

the  constant  and  unremitting  pressure  of  need. 
They  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  and  from  day  to 
day,  and  to  cease  from  labour  is  to  face  starva- 
tion. Certainly,  then,  they  are  compelled  to  work 
under  our  system  of  property,  just  as  is  the  ass 
who  turns  the  wheel  at  the  well.  But  if  we  ask 
whether  their  work  is  as  productive  as  it  might 
be  under  other  conditions,  the  answer,  I  think, 
must  be  very  doubtful. 
Stuart.  Why  so? 

Martin.  Well,  to  begin  with,  none  of  them  have 
been  properly  educated;  so  that  they  are  not  in 
a  position  to  make  the  best  use  of  such  powers 
as  they  possess.  And  how  much  wealth  is  lost  to 
the  community  by  this  simple  fact,  by  lack  of 
intelligence  and  initiative  among  working  men, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  estimate. 
Stuart.  Well,  we  have  public  elementary  schools 
to  educate  them. 

Martin.  No  doubt;  to  that  extent  we  have  vio- 
lated the  principle  of  our  system  of  property, 
and  admitted  a  socialistic  leaven.  But  even  so,  as 
things  are  at  present,  the  kind  of  education  given 
in  these  schools  does  not  compensate  for  the 
drawbacks  of  a  poor  home.  Poverty  must  be  held 
responsible  for  an  indefinite  loss  in  productive 
power.  But,  further,  putting  that  aside,  the  bulk 
of  wage-earners  have  not  really  sufficient  pros- 
[128] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

pect  of  advancement  to  stimulate  them  to  put  out 
their  full  powers.  They  are  compelled  to  work; 
but  they  are  not  tempted  to  work  their  best.  It 
is  true,  no  doubt,  even  in  Europe,  that  a  man 
can  rise  from  bottom  to  top  of  the  social  scale. 
But  the  difficulties  are  so  immense,  the  talent  and 
character  required  so  great,  the  opportunities  so 
few,  that  in  effect  the  stimulus  is  only  felt  by  a 
negligible  minority.  Broadly  speaking,  the  wage- 
earners  are  members  of  closed  castes ;  where  they 
begin,  there  substantially  they  will  end;  the 
wages  they  were  earning  as  young  men  they  will 
be  earning  still,  likely  enough,  in  middle  life; 
while  their  old  age,  in  all  probability,  will  be 
spent  in  the  workhouse.  Under  our  system,  then, 
they  are  indeed  under  compulsion  to  labour,  and 
so  far  the  system  encourages  production ;  but 
they  have  no  spur  to  labour  otherwise  than  me- 
chanically and  reluctantly,  no  prick  of  ambition, 
no  light  of  hope,  no  beckoning  and  expanding  fu- 
ture. And  how  incalculable  must  be  the  loss  of 
productivity  there! 

Stuart.  There  is  some  loss,  no  doubt. 
Martin.  I  will  not  wrangle  with  you  how  much. 
But  when  all  that  I  have  said  is  taken  into  con- 
sideration, how  much  really  remains  of  your 
claim  for  our  system  that  it  is  peculiarly  favour- 
able to  production?  This  much,  I  think:  that  the 
[129] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

few  who  get  a  good  education  and  a  good  start 
in  life,  and  who  are  not  paralysed  by  a  com- 
petence or  ruined  by  a  fortune,  are  in  a  position 
to  make  their  own  way  by  their  wits.  It  is  these 
who  feel  the  stimulus  of  the  great  prizes,  these 
who  are  impelled  to  certain  forms  of  material 
production  by  a  combination  of  opportunity,  need 
and  ambition  unattainable  perhaps  under  any 
other  system;  these  who  become  our  great  or- 
ganisers and  financiers  and  captains  of  labour. 
And  on  these  our  attention  is  so  exclusively  fixed 
that  we  take  them  as  types  and  symbols  of  our 
whole  society,  forgetting  that  they  are  a  very 
small  minority,  and  that  the  bulk  of  men  have 
neither  their  chances  nor  their  motive  to  make 
the  most  of  them. 

Stuart.  They  may  be  a  minority,  but  they  are 
a  minority  of  the  utmost  importance.  Upon  them 
depends  all  progress  in  material  prosperity. 
'Martin.  I  will  not  dispute  it;  and  any  society, 
no  doubt,  would  be  the  poorer  which  could  not 
evoke  the  full  extent  of  their  capacities.  Possi- 
bly, however,   that  result  might  be  achieved   in 
the  better-ordered  societies  we  are  imagining. 
Stuart.  I  don't  see  how. 

Mart'm.  Well,  Harington  at  any  rate  can  say, 

I  suppose,  that  he  has  only  to  breed  a  class  of 

inventors   and   organisers,   and   give  them  their 

[130] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

appropriate  work,  and  the  problem  is  solved.  In 
his  society,  in  fact,  the  money  wage  would  ap- 
parently not  be  required  as  a  motive,  but  only  as 
a  means  of  providing  adequate  resources  for  each 
class  of  workers.  Wouldn't  that  be  so? 
Harlngton.  Yes,  I  think  it  would. 
Stuart.    No  doubt!    Harington   has   begged  all 
the  questions !  But  then  he  can't  expect  one  to 
take  him  seriously. 

Martin.  Does  that  imply  that  you  take  me  seri- 
ously ? 

Stuart.  Not  very,  I  confess.  Still,  you  don't 
seem  quite  so  much  in  the  air. 
Martin.  Thank  you.  And  in  return  I  will  not 
at  this  point  lay  too  much  stress  on  my  system 
of  breeding  for  a  high  average.  But  I  will  ask 
you  to  remember  that  in  my  society,  in  which 
there  are  no  distinctions  of  class,  whatever  ad- 
vantages there  may  be  of  education  and  oppor- 
tunity will  be  distributed  fairly  to  all  according 
to  their  different  choices  and  talents.  And  I  may 
assume,  accordingly,  a  higher  level  of  intelli- 
gence, a  higher  average  standard  of  life,  and  a 
more  general  sense  of  scope  and  outlook  than 
exists  at  present  among  the  mass  of  workers. 
That  is  really  not  very  chimerical. 
Stuart.  WeU? 

Martin.  Well,  then  it  follows,  I  should  say,  that 
[131] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

you  will  get  such  a  development  of  intelligence 
and  energy  applied  to  every  branch  of  work  as 
we  at  present  can  hardly  conceive.  For  masses 
of  people  who  now  mechanically  grind  out  their 
work,  uninspired  by  hope  or  interest,  will  begin 
to  think  about  it,  to  reflect  upon  its  problems, 
to  want  to  master  and  improve  processes,  and 
generally  to  become  human  beings  with  human 
aspirations,  instead  of  living  tools. 
Stuart.  Why  should  all  that  happen? 
'Martin.  Because  not  only  will  they  be  better 
trained  and  equipped,  but  the  sense  of  injustice 
and  of  inferiority,  of  being  merely  "  hands," 
will  have  disappeared.  They  will  be,  and  feel 
themselves,  responsible  citizens  of  a  community, 
in  as  good  a  position  as  anyone  else,  receiving 
substantially  just  treatment  on  a  system  known, 
approved,  and  maintained  by  themselves.  The 
civic  feeling  which,  among  the  masses,  is  non- 
existent now,  and  hardly  could  exist  in  a  com- 
munity so  chaotic  and  unjust  as  ours,  will 
germinate  and  grow  into  its  full  proportions. 
And  if  you  add  to  this  that,  being  educated  and 
intelligent  people,  they  will  want  to  employ  their 
faculties  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  doing  so,  and 
will  naturally  be  glad,  many  of  them,  to  employ 
them  in  the  occupation  they  have  chosen,  I  think 
you  ought  to  agree  that  any  loss  there  might  be 
[132] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

from  the  disappearance  of  the  opportunity   to 
make  immense  fortunes  might  be  more  than  com- 
pensated by  the  operation  of  these  other  motives 
and  forces. 
Stuart.  Possibly. 

Martin.  And  let  me  go  further  into  what  you 
will  call  idealism,  but  what  I  am  inclined  to  think 
is  common  sense.  Able  men,  I  believe,  do  not 
really  care  about  money  to  the  extent  you  seem 
to  suppose.  They  value  money  as  a  test  of  suc- 
cess. But  suppose  it  ceased  to  be  the  test?  Sup- 
pose all  the  standards  changed,  as  they  must  do, 
by  direct  consequence,  if  such  institutions  as  I 
am  imagining  were  introduced?  What,  then, 
would  stimulate  your  able  man,  the  sort  of  man 
who  now  makes  his  millions?  Why  not  the  recog- 
nition his  fellow  citizens  would  give  him  for  his 
services,  a  recognition  which  might  take  the  form 
of  honours  and  titles,  but  would  be  best  ex- 
pressed in  a  general  respect  for  his  person  and 
deference  to  his  judgment?  Come,  my  dear  Stu- 
art, are  men,  even  now,  really  so  sordid  as  you 
and  most  of  the  Economists  make  out?  Or  are 
we  not  all,  rather,  involved  in  some  hideous  and 
transitory  nightmare,  which  obscures  and  traves- 
ties to  us  our  own  nature? 

Stuart.  I  can't  say  anything  about  that.  I  take 
men  as  I  find  them. 

[133] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  Well,  I  will  not  try  to  allure  you  into 
Utopian  admissions.  But,  after  all  that  I  have 
said,  will  you  not,  at  least,  admit  that  it  is  not 
so  obvious  as  you  assumed,  that  such  a  society 
as  I  am  trying  to  build  up  need  come  to  grief 
for  lack  of  productive  energy? 
Stuart.  Perhaps  it  is  not  obvious.  But  I  still 
think  it  likely. 

§5.  Government.  Martin.  Well,  I  must  leave  the  matter  there,  and 
go  on  to  the  next  point.  We  have  laid  down  gen- 
erally what  we  hold  to  be  the  equitable  system  of 
distribution  ;  and  we  have  endeavoured  to  meet  the 
objection  that  a  society  adopting  such  a  system 
must  be  less  productive  than  our  own.  But  we 
have  yet  to  face  the  difficult  question,  which  you 
raised  some  time  ago,  as  to  how  such  a  system 
could  be  maintained. 

Stuart.  Yes!  How  is  your  society  going  to  be 
governed,  or  to  govern  itself? 

(1)7*  govern*-  Martin.  There  is  a  question  we  ought  logically 
ment  nee-  to  ask  first.  Is  it  necessary  that  it  should  be  gov- 
essary?  erne(J  at  a]1? 

Stuart.  What  do  you  mean?  Of  course  it  must 
be  governed. 

Martin.  But  what   is   government?  Is   it,   after 
all,  what  really  moves  a  society?  Or  is  not  every 
society  moved  by  its  habits  and  needs  and  desires, 
resulting  in  that  we  may  call  its  will? 
[134] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  But  government,  I  suppose,  is  the  ulti- 
mate expression  of  that  will. 
Martin.  Clearly  it  is  not  its  complete  expression ; 
for  though  it  limits,  it  does  not  prescribe  most 
of  the  activities  of  men  in  any  civilised  society. 
Even  among  ourselves,  complicated  and  elaborate 
as  our  law  has  become,  it  is  voluntary  contract 
and  voluntary  association  that  determine  most 
of  the  relations  of  life.  People  buy  and  sell,  hire 
and  engage,  combine  in  every  kind  of  way,  for 
purposes  of  business  or  amusement  or  instruction, 
in  thousands  of  complicated  ways,  determined  by 
their  needs  and  desires ;  and  though  the  general 
forms  of  such  action,  and  the  general  limitations 
upon  it,  are  prescribed  by  law,  under  penalties, 
yet  the  particular  content  in  every  case  is  cre- 
ated by  the  individuals  contracting  and  combin- 
ing, who  even  overleap,  in  pursuit  of  their  aims, 
national  boundaries,  and  form  an  intricate  net- 
work of  social  and  economic  relations  with  people 
living  under  different  laws  and  different  govern- 
ment. 

Stuart.  That,  of  course,  is  true. 
Martin.    It  follows  that,  on  the  face  of  it,  we 
need  not  conceive  government  to  be  essential  to 
a  society.  We  have  to  consider  whether  it  is  or 
no,  before  asking  what  form  it  should  assume. 

[135] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  The  question  is,  surely,  rather  academic. 
No  one  doubts  that  government  is  essential. 
Martin.  Anarchists  not  only  doubt,  but  deny  it. 
Stuart.    But  we  are  not,  I  hope,  going  to  take 
our  counsel  from  them. 

Martin.  We  shall  take  our  counsel,  I  hope,  as 
hitherto,  from  our  argument.  But  I  want  to 
examine,  not  to  take  for  granted,  the  expediency 
of  government.  And  first  let  us  ask  in  what  way 
the  rules  made  by  government  are  distinguished 
from  those  which  people  make  for  themselves  in 
all  these  forms  of  voluntary  association  of  which 
we  have  just  spoken. 

Stuart.  They  are  distinguished,  clearly,  pre- 
cisely by  the  fact  that  they  are  not  voluntary. 
People  find  them  made  for  them  and  have  to  sub- 
mit to  them  under  penalties. 

Martin.  Coercion  then,  I  suppose  we  may  say, 
is  the  essence  of  government.  And  if  that  coer- 
cion be  really  necessary  it  is  because  there  are 
people  in  the  society  who  want  to  break  the 
rules  and  will  do  so  unless  they  are  deterred  by 
fear. 

Stuart.  Of  course ;  there  is  the  criminal  class. 
Martin.  Yes;  but  why?  If  people  want  to  break 
the  rules,  it  must  be  because  they  judge  them  not 
to  be  advantageous  to  them.  And  if  they  are  not 

[136] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

advantageous,  must  they  not  be,  in  some  way, 
wrong? 

Stuart.  Excuse  me,  but  is  it  worth  while  to  go 
into  all  this?  It  must  be  as  clear  to  you  as  it  is 
to  me  that  it  is  not  the  rules  but  the  people  that 
are  wrong. 

Martin.  I  am  sorry  to  seem  tedious,  but  it  is  just 
because  that  is  not  clear  to  me  that  I  am  raising 
the  point.  For  I  see  no  reason  to  assume  that  the 
rules  made  by  government,  either  now  or  in  any 
former  time,  really  further  in  all  respects,  or 
even  in  most  respects,  the  true  interests  of  the 
community.  I  do  not  mean  merely  that  the  com- 
munity may  not  know  its  true  interests,  though 
that  of  course  is  quite  likely  to  be  the  case;  but, 
putting  that  aside,  there  seems  no  reason  to  as- 
sume, but  on  the  contrary  good  reason  to  deny, 
that  governments  have  ever  aimed  at  the  interest 
of  the  community. 

Stuart.  I  am  not  a  historian;  but  that  seems  to 
me  on  the  face  of  it  an  extraordinary  statement. 
Martin.  The  more  you  studied  history  the  more 
I  believe  you  would  be  driven  to  think  that,  ex- 
traordinary though  the  statement  may  seem,  it 
represents  the  fact.  For  all  governments  hitherto, 
as  we  had  occasion  to  remark  before,  have  been 
government  by  and  for  some  class  of  the  com- 
munity, and  have  kept  in  view  in  the  first  place 
[137] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

the  interest  of  that  class.  To  maintain  themselves 
in  the  position  of  rulers  and  property-holders, 
and  to  keep  others  in  the  position  of  labouring 
for  them,  has  tbeen  their  first,  if  not  their  only 
object.  And  this  is  as  true  of  governments  called 
Monarchies  and  Democracies  as  of  those  which 
are  recognised  as  Oligarchies.  The  best  of  mon- 
archs,  a  Frederick  the  Great,  or  a  Joseph  II, 
intended  in  all  their  legislation  to  perpetuate  the 
distinction  between  those  who  work  and  obey  and 
those  who  appropriate  and  rule;  and  the  famous 
democracies  of  the  ancient  world  were  based  on 
slavery.  There  has  never  been  a  government 
hitherto  which  has  intended  the  Good  of  all,  in 
the  sense  of  intending  for  everyone  equal  oppor- 
tunity and  an  equitable  wage. 
Stuart.  Well,  putting  aside  history,  of  which 
you  have  more  knowledge  that  I,  do  you  maintain 
that  in  our  own  time  no  government  intends  the 
Good  of  the  community? 

Martin.  Not  if  our  earlier  analysis  were  right, 
that  existing  societies  are  Plutocracies  tempered 
by   Ochlocracy;    for    governments    support    the 
institutions  which  produce  and  perpetuate  that 
form  of  society.  Or  do  you  see  any  government 
which  intends  seriously  to  alter  them? 
Stuart.  I  see  in  all  governments  much  more  ten- 
dency to  Socialism  than  I  like. 
[138] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  I  do  not  deny  —  it  is  in  fact  my  hope 
—  that  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the 
world  a  movement  may  be  on  foot  to  convert  so- 
ciety into  a  true  Democracy.  But  meantime  gov- 
ernments, as  always,  reflect  the  form  of  the 
society.  They  exist  primarily  to  support  pluto- 
cratic institutions ;  and  are  therefore,  like  all  that 
have  preceded  them,  governments  by  and  for  a 
class,  the  class  of  the  well-to-do.  And  if  that  be 
so,  the  coercion  they  exercise  is  not  likely,  in  all 
or  in  most  respects,  to  be  exercised  for  the  Good 
of  the  whole ;  nor  are  those  who  resist  it  likely  to 
be  merely  criminals,  in  the  sense  of  people  incapa- 
ble of  and  hostile  to  right  social  relations.  If, 
for  instance,  as  to  a  great  extent  is  admittedly 
the  case,  crime  springs  from  poverty  and  ill- 
education  and  neglect  and  lack  of  opportunity, 
it  springs  from  the  very  institutions  which  it 
threatens,  and  government  indirectly  creates  the 
criminals  it  punishes.  And  not  only  so,  it  also 
creates  them  directly,  by  the  penal  system,  as 
many  competent  and  experienced  people  have 
long  been  insisting.  This  coercion,  then,  so  far, 
is  really  a  bad  thing,  deserving  the  reprobation 
of  the  anarchist.  And  we  have  still  to  see  whether 
there  is  any  coercion  that  would  be  good. 
Stuart.  Do  you  suggest  the  immediate  destruction 
of  government  by  way  of  reforming  Society? 
[139] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  I  do  not;  but  only  because  human  na- 
ture, I  believe,  is  so  intricately  entangled  in  its 
institutions  that  it  could  not  in  a  moment  adapt 
itself  to  better  ones.  That,  however,  is  a  point 
for  future  discussion.  At  present,  what  I  want 
to  suggest  is  this,  that  if  government,  in  the 
sense  of  coercion,  has  hitherto  been  essential  to 
society,  that  is  because  no  society  has  yet  been 
founded  on  equity.  The  laws  have  been  made  by 
one  class  for  another;  and  there  was  no  reason, 
other  than  fear,  why  that  other  class  should  obey 
them.  But  when  we  come  to  imagine  an  ideal  so- 
ciety, would  government,  in  this  sense,  be  essential 
to  it? 

Stuart.  I  suppose  there  would  always  be  recal- 
citrant people. 

Martin.  Why  should  there  be?  What  makes  peo- 
ple recalcitrant,  save  the  fact  that  they  are 
expected  to  obey  rules  of  which  they  do  not 
approve? 

Stuart.  But  make  your  institutions  as  just  as 
you  like,  and  your  people  as  public-spirited  as 
you  like,  there  must  always  be  differences  of 
opinion  as  to  this  or  that  law  or  regulation ;  and 
if  those  differences  become  acute  there  must  be 
a  point  at  which  coercion  comes  in.  For  example, 
even  in  your  ideal  Democracy,  a  controversy  might 
[140] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

arise  over  religious  education  such  as  that  which 
has  lately  been  distracting  the  country. 
Martin.  I  hope  that  in  my  ideal  Democracy  there 
will  be  more  tolerance  and  commonsense.  Still,  I 
agree  that  it  would  be  hazardous  to  anticipate, 
even  under  better  institutions,  an  immediate  dis- 
appearance of  the  necessity  for  coercion.  But  on 
the  other  hand  we  may  fairly  say  that  the  more 
equitable  laws  and  institutions  can  be  made,  the 
more  they  will  be  respected;  that  the  knowledge 
that  they  are  constructed  with  a  view  to  nothing 
but  the  public  Good  would  make  minorities  more 
patient  and  more  law-abiding;  and  that,  as  Soci- 
ety perfects  itself,  at  once  in  men  and  in  institu- 
tions, the  element  of  coercion  will  become  less  and 
less  important  until  it  imperceptibly  disappears. 
So  that  really  the  contention  of  the  Anarchists 
that  a  just  society  would  require  no  government, 
in  that  sense  of  the  word,  is  substantially  true. 
Harington.  But  Anarchists,  as  I  understand 
them,  go  further  than  that.  They  seem  to  object 
not  only  to  coercion,  but  to  regulation. 
Martin.  It  is  not  easy  to  see  whether  they  im- 
agine regulation  to  be  unnecessary,  or  suppose 
that  it  will  always  somehow  arise  spontaneously 
from  the  mind  of  the  mass.  I  conceive  the  latter 
to  be  their  idea;  and  I  think  myself  that  it  is 
[141] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

fanciful.  If  men  are  to  cooperate  in  immense 
numbers,  over  immense  areas,  in  an  immense  num- 
ber of  matters  intricately  connected,  as  is  the 
case  in  the  societies  we  are  imagining,  as  well 
as  in  that  which  exists,  they  must,  as  now,  be 
subject  to  very  complex  rules ;  these  must  be  fixed 
over  periods  of  time;  there  must  be  a  recognised 
machinery  for  framing  and  modifying  them; 
and  they  must  interfere  with  the  momentary 
moods,  caprices,  and  desires  of  individuals.  The 
kind  of  freedom  Anarchists  seem  to  desire,  in 
which  no  one  is  ever  obliged  to  do  anything  he 
doesn't  at  the  moment  want  to  do,  is  ruled  out 
no  less  by  the  natural  than  by  the  social  condi- 
tions of  labour.  Nature  fixes  the  season  and  time 
for  many  kinds  of  work,  without  any  respect  to 
our  moods ;  and  cooperation  requires  a  readiness 
on  the  part  of  the  cooperators  to  fulfil  fixed 
obligations  at  fixed  times.  But,  with  these  ex- 
ceptions, the  Anarchists  are  right  in  desiring  to 
leave  to  the  individual  as  much  liberty  as  possi- 
ble, and  to  involve  him  as  little  as  may  be  in 
hard  and  fast  rules.  And  that  brings  us  back 
to  the  question,  what  will  be  the  functions  and 
the  form  of  government  in  our  ideal  societies, 
taking  government  now  in  its  sense  not  of  coer- 
cion —  for  we  suppose,  on  the  whole,  a  willing 
obedience  —  but  of  regulation.  And,  to  take  the 
[142] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 


functions  first,  these  will  clearly  be  very  different 
from  those  which  have  to  be  performed  by  existing 
States. 

Stuart.  Yes ;  and  they  will  also  be,  so  far  as  I 
can  see,  far  more  vexatious.  Every  detail  of 
everybody's  life  will  be  regulated;  and  the  fact 
that  you  use  the  word  regulation  instead  of  the 
word  coercion  will  not  make  the  interference 
any  the  less  intolerable. 

Martin.  I  am  not  so  clear  about  that.  But  we 
shall  be  able  to  judge  better  when  we  have 
brought  before  our  minds  the  full  extent  of  the 
interference  of  existing  governments. 
Stuart.  Existing  governments,  of  course,  are 
coming  to  interfere  more  and  more,  and  I  think 
it  very  regrettable.  But,  after  all,  what  do  they 
do?  In  brief,  they  protect  us  from  disorder  at 
home  and  from  aggression  abroad. 
Martin.  Yes ;  but  let  us  see  what  is  involved  in 
that.  Protection  from  disorder  at  home  means 
punishing  those  who  break  the  law;  but  the  law, 
as  we  have  seen,  means  poverty,  as  institutions 
now  are.  So  that  the  maintenance  of  order  means 
the  maintenance  of  economic  unfreedom  for  the 
great  mass  of  citizens ;  and  indirectly,  if  not 
directly,  government  is  responsible  for  all  the 
limitations  of  personal  development  which  we  saw 
to  be  characteristic  of  modern  societies. 
[143] 


(2)  The  ex- 
tent of 
govern- 


terference 
in  Existing 
Society. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  That  seems  to  me,  if  you  will  pardon 
my  saying  so,  a  little  sophistical.  I  was  speaking 
of  administrative  interference;  and  it  seems  clear 
that  there  must  be  much  more  of  that  in  the 
communities  you  call  ideal  than  in  our  own  so- 
ciety. 

Martin.  Possibly;  but  the  evil  of  interference 
consists  only  in  its  restriction  of  liberty.  So  that  I 
am  surely  justified  in  suggesting  that  we  lose,  per- 
haps, under  existing  conditions,  as  much  through 
economic  unfreedom  as  we  gain  through  adminis- 
trative independence.  If,  in  the  communities  we 
are  imagining,  everyone  had  the  best  possible 
opportunity  to  develop  all  the  resources  of  his 
nature,  submission  to  regulations  devised  with  that 
purpose  would  surely  be  a  small  price  to  pay. 
Stuart.  It  is  a  question  of  temperament,  I  sup- 
pose; but  I  should  think  it  a  very  heavy  price. 
Martin.  You  and  I,  you  must  remember,  belong 
to  the  small  section  of  society  that  has  both  kinds 
of  freedom ;  and  I  think  it  possible  that  we  really 
have,  on  the  balance,  more  liberty  than  we  could 
easily  secure  under  other  conditions ;  though  to 
my  mind,  the  value  of  the  liberty  is  almost  de- 
stroyed by  the  knowledge  of  the  price  which 
others  have  to  pay  for  it.  For  those  others,  the 
mass  of  men,  what  freedom  really  have  they? 
Can  they  effectively  choose  their  career,  more 
[144] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

than  under  the  most  bureaucratic  socialism?  Can 
they  fix  their  hours  of  work  ?  Can  they  determine 
their  wage?  Can  they  travel?  Can  they  educate 
themselves?  Can  they  select  their  society?  Can 
they  assure  their  solitude?  They  are  at  least  as 
absolutely  under  the  regulation  of  their  masters 
as  they  could  be  under  that  of  the  community  in 
a  completely  socialised  State;  and  they  have  not 
the  compensating  advantage  of  security,  of  com- 
fort, of  leisure,  which  it  is  reasonable  to  think 
might  be  guaranteed  to  them  under  the  institu- 
tions we  have  been  imagining. 
Stuart.  Well,  I  still  call  it  paradoxical  to  attri- 
bute that  kind  of  unfreedom  to  the  interference 
of  government. 

Martin.  Let  us  turn  then  to  another  great  branch 
of  governmental  activity.  In  national  defence,  at 
any  rate,  you  will  not  suggest  that  government 
does  not  interfere  with  its  subjects?  In  this  coun- 
try, it  is  true,  it  contents  itself  with  taking  our 
money  from  our  pocket,  £60,000,000  yearly,  to 
pay  for  a  mercenary  fleet  and  army.  But  abroad 
every  citizen,  for  one  or  more  years  of  his  life, 
is  torn  from  his  home  and  his  occupation,  shut 
up  in  barracks,  and  subjugated  without  appeal 
to  the  despotic  orders  of  public  officials ;  while 
later  he  is  liable,  for  the  greater  part  of  his  life, 
at  any  moment  to  be  called  away  from  his  work, 
[145] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

his  habits  and  his  family  and  set  marching  to 
shoot  or  be  shot  by  people  against  whom  he  has 
no  grievance  in  a  quarrel  which  he  doesn't  under- 
stand. Can  any  interference  with  individual  lib- 
erty be  imagined  greater  than  that? 
Stuart.  And  your  ideal  community?  Is  it  to 
have  no  enemies  and  no  war? 
Martin.  I  dare  not  digress  into  that  immense 
subject,  for  our  hands  are  already  overfull.  I 
will  ask  you  therefore  to  make  a  great  conces- 
sion ;  and  since  we  are  considering  the  internal 
order  of  a  community,  to  abstract  from  inter- 
national relations,  that  we  may  concentrate  on 
the  other  point.  I  admit  of  course  that  this 
course  is  unscientific,  and  even  unphilosophic ; 
but  if  we  try  to  treat  of  everything  at  once,  we 
shall  never  be  done. 

Stuart.  It  wasn't  I,  it  was  you,  who  introduced 
the  subject. 

Martin.  I  agree,  and  it  was  an  error.  I  will 
withdraw  that  part  of  my  indictment  against  our 
society,  if  you  will  Avithdraw  your  challenge  to 
mine. 

Stuart.  Be  it  so. 

Martin.  Neglecting  then,  in  the  communities  we 
are  imagining,  the  question  of  war,  what  remains 
for  us  to  discuss  under  the  function  of  govern- 
ment? 

[146] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  There  remains,  of  course,  what  we  spoke 
of  at  first,  the  regulation  of  industry.  And  that 
is  where  the  socialistic  tyranny  comes  in. 
Martin.  Yes,   and  also  where  the   individualistic 
tyranny  goes  out. 

Stuart.  What  do  you  mean  by  that? 
Martin.  I  used  the  word  tyranny  because  you 
used  it ;  but  we  will  adhere,  if  you  prefer  it, 
to  the  more  neutral  word  regulation.  And  clearly 
such  regulation,  which  I  called  individualistic, 
now  exists,  through  and  through,  in  every  branch 
and  in  every  detail  of  industry.  Wages  are  reg- 
ulated; hours  of  work  are  regulated;  methods 
are  regulated;  prices  are  regulated;  only  all  this 
is  done  by  private  persons  or  companies,  instead 
of  by  government  officials.  So  that  it  is  not,  I 
suppose,  regulation  to  which  you  object,  but  some 
particular  method  of  regulation? 
Stuart.  I  object  to  regulation  by  outside  officials 
who  don't  understand  business. 
Martin.  Naturalty.  And  we  shall  have  to  see 
whether  we  cannot  imagine,  for  our  ideal  commu- 
nity, some  method  not  open  to  that  objection. 
Let  us  try  then  to  sketch  such  a  method  in 
outline ;  for  it  would  obviously  be  silly  and  pedan- 
tic to  elaborate  details.  What  we  have  to  aim 
at,  I  suppose,  is  as  much  elasticity  and  as  much 
efficiency  as  is  possible  in  a  very  extensive  and 
[147] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

complicated  machine.  And  here  I  see  a  great  dis- 
tinction between  the  possibilities  of  Harington's 
Aristocracy  and  my  Democracy. 
Harington.  What  is  that? 

(3)  Govern-        Martin.    How    would    you    propose    to    organise 
ment  in  an  industry  in  your  community? 
Aristae-        Harington.  My  organisation,  I  conceive,  would 
racy.  be  quite  frankly  what  is  called  paternal.  From 

the  industrial  point  of  view  my  governing  class 
would  resemble  Carlyle's  "  captains  of  industry." 
Martin.  Or  rather,  they  would  resemble  the 
Saint-Simonian  aristocracy.  For  they  would  com- 
bine, so  far  as  I  see,  the  spiritual  and  the  tem- 
poral functions  to  a  degree  never  known  before ; 
inasmuch  as  they  would  be  responsible  at  once 
for  culture  and  for  industry,  and  all  ownership 
would  be  vested  in  them.  So  that  their  power 
and  responsibility  would  be  far  greater  even  than 
that  of  Plato's  Guardians,  and,  also,  of  course, 
would  be  extended  over  a  far  greater  area. 
Harington.  That  is  so.  But  remember  that  we  are 
postulating  Plato's  device  of  scientific  breeding; 
and  also,  I  will  add,  an  appropriate  system  «f 
education  for  all  classes. 

Martin.  We  must  hope  then  that  the  breeding 
and  education  of  your  governing  class  will  make 
them  equal  to  their  duties.  But,  however,  so  far 
as  our  present  point  is  concerned,  what  we  have 
[148] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

to  notice  is  that  liberty  can  be  no  feature  of  the 
aristocratic  state. 

Harington.  That  depends  on  what  is  meant  by 
liberty.  At  any  rate,  what  I  propose  does  not 
involve  any  coercion  felt  as  oppressive.  For  every- 
one would  be  assigned  exactly  the  function  for 
which  he  was  fitted  by  nature,  so  that  he  would 
be  doing  exactly  what  he  would  choose  to  do, 
if  he  could  choose  freely ;  and  being  unoppressed 
by  any  sense  of  restraint,  of  faculties  thwarted 
that  might  have  been  developed,  all  my  citizens, 
it  may  fairly  be  said,  will  be  free  in  a  sense  which 
applies  to  almost  nobody  under  existing  condi- 
tions. 

Martin.  But  that  sense  is,  is  it  not,  the  sense 
in  which  a  stone  is  free  when  it  falls?  Your  citi- 
zens will  have  been  so  narrowly  specialised  at 
their  birth  and  so  exactly  furnished  with  the 
appropriate  tools  and  conditions,  that  no  question 
of  self-determination  can  ever  arise.  To  call  them 
free  would  be,  I  think,  paradoxical ;  but  I  gladly 
admit  that  they  would  not  be  slaves.  They  would 
realise,  all  of  them,  all  the  possibilities  with  which 
they  were  endowed  at  birth;  they  would  there- 
fore be  contented  and  orderly ;  and  the  task  of 
governing  them,  however  difficult  from  its  com- 
plexity, at  least  would  not  be  magnified  by  the 
insubordination  of  the  subjects.  But  such  a  com- 
[149] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

munity  clearly  is  not  what  is  commonly  under- 
stood by  a  free  community ;  rather  it  would 
naturally  be  described  as  an  immense  bureau- 
cracy. 

Harington.  You  may  describe  it  as  you  will,  so 
long  as  we  understand  that  it  would  be  orderly 
and  beautiful,  in  the  Platonic  sense ;  and  also,  in 
his  sense,  just. 

(4)  Govern-  Martin.  It  is  not  yet  time  to  characterise  it, 
ment  in  a  until  the  description  is  completed.  We  will  call 
Democ-  it  then,  with  your  permission,  a  Bureaucracy ;  and 
racy.  ft  wiH,  I  think,  be  tedious  and  unprofitable  to 

say  any  more  about  its  system  of  government. 
Everything  would  be  regulated  by  the  governing 
class,  or  by  officials  appointed  by  them;  and  the 
problem  of  combining  popular  control  with  effi- 
ciency, and  liberty  with  order  would  not  arise. 
But  with  my  Democracy  it  is  far  otherwise.  For 
there  is  no  governing  class;  the  Society  must 
govern  itself;  and  it  must  preserve  the  utmost 
liberty  compatible  with  the  necessary  regulation. 
And  that  is  a  very  difficult  matter  to  arrange. 
Stuart.  I  should  think  it  is !  You  have  committed 
yourself  to  Collectivism ;  and  that  means  that  you 
have  to  regulate  everything.  And  the  more  per- 
fectly you  can  do  that,  the  more  completely  you 
must  abolish  liberty ! 

Martin.  How  terrifying  you  are  when  you  as- 
[150] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

sume  the  cap  and  gown  of  the  schoolmaster!  I 
feel  like  a  small  boy  who  has  made  a  mistake 
in  prosody. 

Stuart.    You've   made    a   mistake   in    something 
much  more  serious  than  prosody. 
Martin.  But  please,  sir,  may  I  explain? 
Stuart.  Excuse  yourself  if  you  can !  If  not  — ! 
Martin.  The  cane  is  waiting,  I  know!  Well,  I 
must  do  my  best  to  escape.  I  have  to  show,  if  I 
can,  how  my  citizens  can  be  regulated  without 
being  converted  into  slaves.  And  first,  please  re- 
member that  it  is  they  who  are  to  regulate  them- 
selves. 

Stuart.  That's  a  mere  phrase.  Regulations,  even 
if  they  be  adopted  by  a  majority,  are  none  the 
less  felt  as  restrictions  even  upon  the  members 
of  the  majority. 

Martin.  Still,  I  may  fairly  assume,  I  suppose, 
that  whatever  rules  are  adopted  will  be  supported 
by  public  opinion?  Whereas  you,  perhaps,  like 
many  critics,  are  unconsciously  supposing  that 
the  arrangements  of  a  collectivist  community 
would  be  imposed  upon  members  as  recalcitrant  as 
yourself  by  a  kind  of  mysterious  junto  called  the 
Government. 

Stuart.  Any  government  always  is,  and  always 
must  be,  out  of  touch  with  public  opinion. 
Martin.  Please,  sir,  is  that  a  law  of  nature? 
[151] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  It's  a  law  of  experience ! 
Martin.  And  down  comes  the  cane!  But,  seri- 
ously, it  is,  is  it  not,  preposterous  to  assume  any- 
thing of  the  kind?  At  any  rate,  I  can  only  con- 
tinue my  argument,  if  you  will  admit  that  the 
rules  a  society  obeys  may  be  such  as  it  does  effec- 
tively approve. 

Stuart.  Oh,  if  you  appeal  to  my  clemency !  Pray 
go  on. 

Martin.  I  have,  then,  only  to  consider  what  kind 
of  rules  a  free  society  would  be  likely  to  tolerate 
and  to  impose  upon  itself. 

Stuart.  If  you  go  upon  those  lines  you  will  find 
that  no  free  society  would  ever  tolerate  Collect- 
ivism at  all. 

Martin.    That's  what  I  want  to  examine.    And, 
first,  let  us  remind  ourselves  what  are  the  prin- 
cipal matters  such  a  society  might  wish  to  reg- 
ulate. There  was,  to  begin  with,  marriage, 
(a)  The  reg-    Stuart.    The  most  intimate  and  private  of  all 
illation  of    matters !  Are  you  going  to  determine  by  author- 
ma.rrw.ge.      ity  who  is  to  marry  whom,  and  how  many  children 
they  are  to  have,  and  all  the  rest  of  it? 
Martin.  I  confess  that  I  can  hardly  imagine  any 
free   community    submitting   in   that   matter   to 
direct  coercion.  It  is  conceivable,   I  think,  that 
they    might   be   persuaded,    or    rather    persuade 
themselves,  to  forbid  under  severe  penalties  the 
[152] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

marriage,  or  at  least  the  production  of  children, 
by  people  known  to  be  suffering  from  hereditary 
diseases.  That  would  at  any  rate  be  something. 
Stuart.  Is  that  as  far  as  you  would  go? 
Martin.  It  is  as  far  as  I  like  to  suggest  going  by 
way  of  coercion.  But  I  hope  much  from  induce- 
ment and  much  from  public  opinion. 
Stuart.  What  do  you  mean  by  inducement? 
Martin.  I  mean  attracting  people  to  the  right 
course,    rather    than    deterring    them    from    the 
wrong ;  a  most  important  principle  and  one  which 
has  not  been  nearly  enough  employed  by  gov- 
ernments. 

Stuart.  How  would  it  apply  in  this  case? 
Martin.  You  may  remember  that,  in  discussing 
the  rewards  of  labour,  we  agreed  —  at  least  Har- 
ington  and  I  did  —  that  the  work  of  bearing  and 
rearing  children  was  as  necessary  and  important 
as  any  other  and  ought  to  be  paid  for  as  such. 
Stuart.  I  remember  something  of  the  kind  was 
said. 

Martin.  Well,  that  arrangement,  if  adopted, 
might  be  used  to  favour  the  right  kind  of  mar- 
riages. For  the  payment  might,  and  indeed  ob- 
viously should,  only  be  made  to  those  parents 
whose  union  is  approved  by  the  society.  So  that, 
though  there  would  be  no  coercion,  save  in  the 
case  I  mentioned,  to  prevent  people  marrying  as 
[153] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

they  chose,  there  would  be  a  special  preference 
given  to  such  unions  as  were  likely  to  result  in 
better  children. 

Stuart.  But  that  would  involve  some  system  of 
public  inspection. 

Martin.  No  doubt!  If  you  were  to  receive  the 
payment,  you  would  have  to  be  passed  as  fit  for 
marriage. 

Stuart.  That  would  be  very  much  resented. 
Martin.  If  it  were,  it  would  remain  inoperative. 
But  I  do  not  agree  with  you.  I  believe  that  pub- 
lic opinion  is  ripening  more  and  more  to  the 
importance  of  this  point;  and  that  it  is  as  much 
ignorance  as  indifference  or  unwillingness,  even 
now,  among  better  educated  people,  which  main- 
tains the  present  haphazard  arrangements.  I  ad- 
mit, however,  that,  in  this  matter,  more  important 
than  any  regulation  is  the  progress  of  knowledge 
and  education  and  sound  opinion.  Given  such 
progress,  I  believe  the  kind  of  regulation  I  sug- 
gest might  be  found  both  workable  and  effective. 
Stuart.  Well,  I  hope  I  shan't  live  to  see  it ! 
Martin.  I  hardly  think  you  will.  You  may 
fairly  expect  to  enjoy,  during  the  rest  of  your 
life,  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that,  in  the 
interest  of  liberty,  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
children  are  yearly  born  into  the  world  slaves 
[154] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

to  disease  and  every  kind  of  misery.  In  my  demo- 
cratic state,   on  the   contrary,   it   would  be   the 
parents  who  would  be  made  what  you  call  slaves 
in  the  interest  of  the  liberty  of  the  children. 
Stuart.  Oh,  I  won't  use  the  word  "  slave."  We 
aren't    fighting    a    general    election.    Besides,    I 
admit  that,  on  this  point,  your  propositions  are 
more  reasonable  than  I  expected. 
Martin.  Thank  you !  May  I  go  on  then  ? 
Stuart.  Do. 

Martin.  The  next  matter  to  deal  with  should 
perhaps  properly  be  education.  The  constructors 
of  Utopias  have  usually  given  a  large  place  to 
it,  and  rightly.  Nevertheless,  I  want  to  be  ex- 
cused. The  subject  is  too  big  to  treat  inciden- 
tally, and  we  have  our  hands  more  than  full. 
Stuart.  I'm  very  glad  to  escape  from  that  sub- 
ject. I  hate  it! 

Martin.  I  will  pnly  say,  then,  that  I  assume  a 
system  of  free  education,  open  to  all  alike  in  all 
its  grades,  though  not  all  would  be  compelled 
to  pass  through  it.  That,  in  principle,  I  think 
offers  no  particular  difficulty,  and  is  likely  to  be 
realised  even  in  communities  not  based  on  Collec- 
tivism. 

Stuart.  Yes,  I  will  not  quarrel  with  you  about 
that. 

[155] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

(>)  The   regu-  Martin.    We  come,   then,   at  last,  to  the  great 

lation  of      crux.  What  about  the  regulation  of  industry? 

industry       Stuart.  Precisely !  and  that's  where  you  come  to 

by  au-          grief, 

thority.         Martin.  Here  at  least,  you  mean,  I  am  bound  to 
set  up  an  intolerable  tyranny? 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  And  I,  on  the  contrary,  insist  that,  even 
if  I  were  obliged  to  have  recourse,  in  the  regula- 
tion of  industry,  to  sheer  authority  —  exercised 
of  course  through  laws  approved  by  the  commu- 
nity upon  the  individuals  who  have  approved 
them  —  that  even  then  a  collectivist  society  might 
fairly  claim  that  in  all  important  essentials  it 
was  freer  than  our  own. 
Stuart.  What! 

Martin.  I  do  really  think  so;  because,  you  see, 
I  maintain  that,  for  most  people,  no  real  freedom 
exists  as  things  now  are. 

Stuart.  How  can  you  maintain  that  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  face  of  the  facts? 
Martin.  Well,  let  us  look  at  the  facts,  clearing 
our  minds  from  cant!  What  do  we  see?  Where 
is  the  freedom?  Is  not  everybody  who  is  working 
at  all  dependent  upon  the  work  of  everybody  else ; 
must  he  not  adjust  to  them  his  hours,  his  move- 
ments, his  place  of  residence,  suffer  from  their 
negligence  or  misfortunes,  fail  with  their  failures, 
[156] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

or  succeed  with  their  success?  How  many  business 
or  professional  men,  to  take  only  the  freest 
classes,  can  decide  on  any  particular  day: — 
"  I  don't  feel  like  work.  It's  a  fine  spring  morn- 
ing. I  shall  sit  in  the  garden,  or  take  a  ride,"  or 
whatever  it  be  that  inclination  may  dictate.  You 
know  very  well  that  they  are  driven  like  slaves 
(as  you  would  say,  if  they  were  under  govern- 
ment orders)  to  take  the  early  train,  to  go  to 
the  City  or  the  Courts,  to  toil  all  day  in  a  close 
unhealthy  noisy  atmosphere,  to  return  home 
fagged  and  dispirited  to  a  late  dinner,  and  after- 
wards, at  the  best,  to  fall  asleep,  at  the  worst  to 
sit  up  into  the  small  hours  of  the  night  prepar- 
ing for  the  next  day's  work.  "  What  a  life ! 
What  a  life ! "  you  would  cry,  if  a  socialist  gov- 
ernment were  to  impose  it  upon  them. 
Stuart.  Because  it  would  really  be  a  much  worse 
life  in  that  case.  I  admit  your  point;  I  admit 
that  in  our  own  society  almost  no  one  is  free, 
in  the  sense  that  he  can  dispose  of  his  time  as 
he  likes.  But  at  any  rate  we  aren't  under  orders. 
We  chose  our  profession  in  the  beginning  freely, 
and  thereby  chose,  once  for  all,  all  its  disabilities. 
And  if  we  sacrifice  to  it  all  or  most  of  our  leisure 
and  our  liberty,  we  make  that  sacrifice  freely, 
day  after  day,  because  we  deliberately  decide 
that  it's  worth  while.  It  is  our  own  judgment, 
[157] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

our  own  prevision,  which  we  obey,  not  somebody 
else's.  And  the  difference  is  infinite. 
Martin.  You  are  not  under  orders,  you  say ;  and 
I  admit  it.  But  who  are  you?  How  many  are 
there  of  you  in  that  happy  position?  Need  I 
once  more  labour  the  point  that  almost  everybody 
is  an  employee  of  somebody  else,  under  the  strict- 
est orders  every  day  and  all  day,  bound  to  fixed 
hours  of  work,  to  a  fixed  routine,  in  all  weathers, 
in  any  state  of  health,  under  the  strongest  of  all 
sanctions,  the  threat  of  starvation?  And  as  to  the 
free  choice  of  occupation,  have  we  not  sufficiently 
illustrated  how  limited  in  practice  that  is  for  the 
great  mass  of  people ;  and  indeed,  for  large  num- 
bers, non-existent? 

Stuart.  No  matter,  for  I  am  going  to  be  stiff 
about  this ;  and  I  insist  that  even  an  ordinary 
unskilled  labourer  benefits  by,  and  consciously 
enjoys,  his  freedom  under  the  present  regime.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  however  dependent  his  position 
may  seem  to  be,  he  takes  his  risks  and  has  his 
chances.  He  gets  drunk  and  doesn't  go  to  work 
for  a  couple  of  days.  He  takes  a  holiday  off 
without  asking.  He  has  a  row  with  the  foreman, 
and  gets  the  sack.  The  threat  of  starvation  does 
not  in  fact  paralyse  his  action.  If  he  leaves  his 
job  he  may  always  get  another  elsewhere,  or 
always  thinks  he  may.  If  not,  he  goes  on  the 
[158] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

tramp,  he  falls  back  on  charity,  he  commits  a 
crime  and  goes  to  prison.  At  every  point,  how- 
ever narrow  his  limits,  he  does,  within  them,  move 
at  his  own  choice.  And  that  I  hold  to  be  a  price- 
less privilege,  even  for  the  poorest  and  weakest, 
and  one  which  ought  not  to  be  bartered  for  the 
richest  mess  of  pottage. 

Martin.  If  you  put  it  so,  even  a  collectivist  com- 
munity could  not  take  away  that  measure  of 
freedom.  If  a  man  prefers  to  take  the  chance  of 
starvation  or  prison,  rather  than  perform  his 
allotted  work,  no  one  can  prevent  him  in  any 
kind  of  society,  other  than  one  of  literal  slave- 
driving  by  the  chain  and  the  whip,  which,  I 
suppose,  even  you  will  not  imagine  Collectivists  to 
contemplate.  It  would,  I  admit,  be  very  disturb^- 
ing  to  the  Democracy  which  I  have  sketched  if  any 
considerable  number  of  people  adopted  those  tac- 
tics. But  if  they  did,  they  must,  so  far  as  I  can 
see,  be  free  to  do  so.  By  doing  so  long  enough 
and  in  sufficient  numbers,  they  could  break  the 
society ;  but  the  society  could  not  break  them. 
The  very  most  it  could  do  would  be  what  we  now 
do,  give  them  the  choice  of  work  or  starvation  or 
prison.  So  that  that  particular  liberty,  which  I 
do  not  admire  as  much  as  you  do,  would  persist, 
though  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  taken  advan- 
tage of,  even  in  a  collectivist  community. 
[159] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  You  score  a  dialectical  point;  but  I 
am  not  convinced.  There  would,  I  am  sure,  be 
less  freedom,  in  a  very  real  sense,  under  Col- 
lectivism than  there  is  now,  not  only  for  the  few 
but  for  the  many.  Take  only  one  point.  Every- 
body would  be  told  by  public  authority  not  only 
what  occupation  they  were  to  pursue,  but  where 
they  were  to  pursue  it.  They  could  not  even 
change  their  house  without  leave,  even  within  the 
limits  of  the  same  district. 

Martin.  Terrible  indeed!  But,  after  all,  need  we 
doubt  that  it  would  be  found  both  possible  and 
convenient  to  transfer  people  from  one  place  to 
another,  just  as  now  postmen  or  railwaymen  are 
transferred,  often  enough  at  their  own  instance 
and  to  suit  their  own  desire,  so  far  as  that  is 
compatible  with  the  exigencies  of  the  service? 
The  freedom  to  change  one's  abode  is  very  lim- 
ited, as  it  is,  for  most  people;  it  might  be  more 
limited  under  Collectivism,  or  it  might  not;  it  is 
impossible  to  say.  But,  anyhow,  the  difference 
would  be  a  comparatively  small  one  of  degree. 
Stuart.  I  don't  think  so.  And  then  there's 
another  point.  There  could  not  really,  in  your 
Democracy,  be  any  freedom  of  supply  and  de- 
mand. The  community  would  decide  what  was 
to  be  made,  and  in  what  quantities,  according  to 
an  elaborate  calculation  as  to  the  average  demand 
[160] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

to  be  anticipated.  I  don't  discuss  now  the  prac- 
ticability of  that  —  to  me  it  seems  altogether 
chimerical;  but  supposing  it  to  be  practicable, 
I  say  it  would  be  intolerable.  All  the  desires  of 
minorities,  all  taste  and  caprice,  would  be  sac- 
rificed to  the  steady  mass-demand  of  neces- 
saries. No  one  would  be  allowed  to  make,  and 
no  one  therefore  able  to  obtain,  the  thousand  ex- 
pensive luxuries  that  soon  become  cheap  neces- 
saries, the  innumerable  things  that  presuppose 
and  keep  in  existence  a  love  of  beauty.  In  effect, 
whether  intending  it  or  no,  your  collectivist  state 
would  end  by  enforcing  a  Spartan  regimen. 
There  would  be  no  variety,  no  change,  therefore 
no  progress ;  nothing  but  what,  in  your  favourite 
"  Republic,"  one  of  the  characters  calls  a  life 
of  pigs. 

Martin.  It  would  indeed  be  a  terrible  state  of 
things  if  everybody  were  provided  with  neces- 
saries, good  food  and  houses  and  clothes,  space 
and  air  and  health  and  nobody  with  champagne 
and  motor  cars  and  fruit  out  of  season.  A  life 
of  pigs,  indeed,  in  comparison  with  that  large, 
humane  and  civilised  existence  now  enjoyed  by 
the  poor  in  Whitechapel,  and  the  rich  in  Park 
Lane. 

Stuart.  You  may  be  as  ironical  as  you  like,  but 

I    am   not   moved.  What   I    am   saying   now    is 

[161] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

what  I  believe,  however  badly  I  may  say  it.  I 
think  your  regulated  life  would  be  intolerable. 
But  also  I  think  —  for  you  shall  hear  it  all  — 
it  would  prove  impossible.  You  have  always 
stopped  me  when  I  have  begun  to  express  my 
doubts ;  but  now  I'm  not  going  to  be  muzzled  any 
longer.  Your  Collectivism  strikes  at  the  root  of 
the  only  motive  force  capable  of  holding  society 
together  at  all,  and  keeping  it  at  once  in  equilib- 
rium and  in  movement.  You  despise  self-interest ; 
but  it  would  be  as  reasonable  to  despise  the  law 
of  gravitation.  The  whole  social  universe  is  gov- 
erned and  sustained  by  it.  What  possible  order, 
laid  down  in  rules  and  supported  by  officials, 
could  approximate  to  the  marvellous  efficiency  of 
this  unconscious  cooperation  ?  Try  to  realise  it ! 
Every  want  provided  for  as  fast  as  it  finds  effec- 
tive expression,  capital  saved  in  exact  proportion 
to  the  demand  for  it,  talent  and  ability  and  la- 
bour of  every  kind  flowing  exactly  to  the  place 
where  it  is  wanted  because  it  receives  exactly  the 
reward  necessary  to  attract  it,  a  general  balance 
of  supply  and  demand  more  minute,  more  com- 
plicated, more  extensive,  than  the  intelligence  can 
comprehend  with  all  its  efforts.  Yet  all  this  tak- 
ing place  of  its  own  accord,  by  the  simple  fact 
that  everybody  is  always  acting  freely  (I  repeat 
the  word)  under  the  stimulus  of  self-interest. 
[162] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

This  thing  is  really  happening ;  it  actually  exists. 
And  you  quietly  propose,  in  the  name  of  some 
impossible  perfection,  to  weaken  indefinitely,  if 
not  altogether  to  suppress,  this  immense  and  all- 
pervading  energy,  to  abolish  the  liberty  in  which 
alone  it  can  find  play,  and  to  substitute  for  this 
harmonious  and  spontaneous  adjustment  the 
clumsy  and  bleared-eyed  rules  of  an  army  of 
mediocre  officials,  supported  by  the  chimera  of 
a  universal  public  spirit.  I  say  that  even  if  men 
were  all  little  Catos  and  Hampdens  they  could 
not,  with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  create  a  single 
wheel  or  gear  of  the  astonishing  mechanism,  or 
achieve  a  hundredth  part  of  the  beneficent  effects 
that  result  automatically  from  the  independent 
efforts  of  individuals  under  the  system  which  we 
actually  enjoy. 

Martin.  What  idealists  we  all  are!  Even  you 
cannot  escape. 

Stuart.  What  do  you  mean? 

Martin.  I  was  only  reflecting  how  naturally  and 
unconsciously  you  substitute  for  the  actual  facts 
what  one  may  call  the  economic  scheme;  the  gen- 
eral account  of  tendencies  which,  no  doubt,  are 
really  operative  but  which  never  at  any  moment 
realise  that  to  which  they  tend.  All  that  you 
have  said,  as  you  well  know,  must  be  qualified  by 
that  discouraging  phrase  "  in  the  long  run." 
[163] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

And  it  is  in  the  short  run  that  all  the  inequities, 
cruelties,  and  maladjustments  happen;  for  it  is 
the  short  run  that  comprises  and  includes  the 
whole  life  of  individual  men.  Besides,  you  have 
omitted  to  take  account  of  friction.  You  have 
described  the  model  of  the  machine,  how  it  would 
work  if  it  worked  perfectly  with  perfect  mate- 
rials. But,  in  fact,  it  works  roughly,  with  very 
coarse  stuff.  It  jerks  and  jams  and  sticks,  it 
breaks  threads,  it  tears  material ;  and  every  shock, 
every  rupture,  every  retardation  or  acceleration 
operates  in  the  substance  of  human  lives.  The 
groans  and  screams  of  that  engine,  as  it  jars  on 
its  ruthless  course,  come  from  the  tortured  lips  of 
men  and  women. 

Stuart.  And  do  you  suggest  that  there  would  be 
no  friction  in  your  community? 
Martin.  No !  What  I  was  maintaining  was,  that 
in  a  collectivist  society,  even  though  it  were 
worked  entirely  by  authority,  there  might  really, 
for  the  mass  of  the  people,  be  more  freedom,  not 
less,  than  there  is  under  our  present  system.  For 
they  would  have  better  education  and  opportuni- 
ties, and  they  would  not  be  more  tied  and  bound 
in  their  industrial  life  than  they  now  are. 
Stuart.  You  can  say  what  you  like,  but  such  a 
society  would  be  intolerable.  I  infinitely  prefer 
our  own  conditions  with  all  that  is  unsatisfactory 
[164] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

about  them.  And  so,  I  believe,  would  all  men,  at 
any  rate  all  Anglo-Saxons,  once  the  alternatives 
were  fairly  before  them. 

Martin,  You   are  very   uncompromising ;  but   I 
am  glad  to  think  that  it  is  not,  after  all,  my 
scheme  to  which  you  are  so  radically  opposed. 
Stuart.   How  do  you  mean,  not  your  scheme? 
Martin.  I   do   not  propose,  myself,  that  every- 
body's occupation  shall  be  assigned  to  him  by  au- 
thority. 

Stuart.  How  are  you  goir  g  to  work  your  society 
then? 

Martin.  Very  much  as  our  own  is  worked,  by  at- 
traction and  repulsion.  For  the  real  characteristic 
of  existing  society  is  not  its  freedom  but  its 
automatism.  And  this  automatism  I  propose  to 
retain,  so  far  as  it  is  compatible  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  my  democracy. 
Stuart.  What  do  you  mean  by  automatism? 
Martin.  I  mean  that,  though  people  are  not  for 
the  most  part  free  to  choose  any  career  they  like, 
yet,  within  the  limits  imposed,  they  do  choose ; 
their  occupation  is  not  imposed  upon  them  by 
law.  Again,  though  they  cannot  really  make  ef- 
fective demands  even,  in  many  cases,  for  neces- 
saries, still  less  for  superfluities,  yet  such  de- 
mands as  they  can  make  effective  do  get  supplied, 
without  any  direct  intervention  of  government. 
[165] 


(d)  The    regu- 
lation of 
industry 
by  induce- 
ment. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

And  that  kind  of  machinery  is,  in  itself,  a  better 
kind,  I  should  agree,  than  public  regulation,  sup- 
posing it  could  be  made  equally  efficient  in  secur- 
ing a  desirable  result. 

Stuart.  I  am  glad,  at  least,  that  you  admit  that. 
Martin.  Certainly  I  do ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  it 
is  difficult  for  officials  to  adjust  their  rules  to  the 
real  trend  of  demand;  and,  in  the  second  place, 
rules,  as  such,  are  disliked  by  the  better  kind  of 
man  as  well  as  by  the  worse.  I  propose,  there- 
fore, to  maintain  the  existing  automatic  system,  so 
far  as  it  can  be  made  to  contribute  to  my  ideal. 
Stuart.  But  can  it? 

Martin.  Let  us  see.  And  let  us  take  first  this  im- 
portant point,  the  choice  of  an  occupation.  What 
do  you  say  is  the  present  system? 
Stuart.  That  everyone  chooses,  within  the  limits 
of  his  powers  and  opportunities,  the  occupation 
that  seems  to  him  to  present  the  greatest  ad- 
vantages; with  the  result  that  there  is  a  constant 
adjustment  of  demand  to  supply,  people  crowding 
into  those  occupations  where  they  are  most  want- 
ed because  there  the  inducements  offered  are  the 
highest,  and  vice  versa. 

Martin.  Subject,  of  course,  to  all  the  exceptions 
and  qualifications  I  have  dwelt  upon.  Well,  in 
my  community,  I  am  going  to  have  exactly  the 
same  machinery,  only  much  better  adapted  to  its 
[166] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

purpose.  I  am  going  to  attract  people  where 
they  are  most  wanted  by  offering  them  higher 
wages,  or  other  differential  advantages,  and  vice 
versa.  Only,  as  my  competitors  will  really  start 
equal,  so  far  as  social  advantages  are  concerned, 
I  shall  get  a  much  better  adjustment  of  occupa- 
tions to  demand,  and  to  individual  taste  and 
talent,  than  is  the  case  now. 
Stuart.  How  will  you  do  all  that? 
Martin.  By  a  scale  of  wageo  and  hours  of  work 
fixed  by  officials,  whose  business  it  will  be  to  deal 
with  that  matter.  Thus,  for  instance,  when  they 
find  there  is  too  little  labour  offering  itself,  say, 
for  agriculture,  and  too  much  for  the  cotton  in- 
dustry, they  will  put  the  wages  up  in  the  one  and 
down  in  the  other  until  the  supply,  equals  the  de- 
mand. 

Stuart.  But  if  you  fix  wages  as  they  are  fixed 
now,  by  a  scale  of  supply  and  demand,  what  be- 
comes of  your  other  scale  of  equity? 
Martin.  Just  there  is  the  beauty  of  my  system! 
For  the  tendency  in  my  society  will  be,  contrary 
to  the  tendency  in  our  own,  for  the  two  scales  to 
coincide. 
Stuart.  Why? 

Martin.  Because  of  the  equality  of  opportunity. 

Consider  for  a  moment !  If  you  had  a  society 

composed  of  really  equal  units,  and  you  set  be- 

[167] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

fore  them  a  number  of  different  tasks,  some  at- 
tractive, some  the  reverse,  and  had  to  get  all  these 
tasks  fulfilled  by  the  method  not  of  coercion  but 
of  inducement,  you  would  have  clearly  to  weight 
the  more  disagreeable  work  with  advantages  just 
sufficient  to  overcome  the  comparative  reluctance 
to  engage  upon  them.  The  advantages  might  be 
higher  wages,  or  shorter  hours,  or  anything 
that  would  serve  the  purpose.  But  the  point  at 
which  they  were  sufficient  to  evoke  the  necessary 
response  would  also  be  the  point  of  equity,  ac- 
cording to  my  scale.  For  the  extra  disagreeable- 
ness  of  the  work  would  be  exactly  compensated,  in 
the  worker's  own  judgment,  by  the  extra  reward. 
Stuart.  That  is  ingenious  enough.  But  in  your 
society,  though  you  postulate  equality  of  oppor- 
tunity, you  can  hardly  pretend  that  your  units 
will  be  really  equal. 

Martin.  No,  not  exactly ;  and  that  of  course  does 
away  with  the  exactitude  of  the  equity.  If  you 
weight  an  employment  with  advantages  enough 
to  attract  all  the  labour  you  want,  some  of  your 
labourers,  no  doubt,  wiH  be  getting  more  than 
they  strictly  should.  But  the  principle  is  sound; 
and  we  must  be  content  to  put  up  with  some  lack 
of  precision  in  its  application. 
Stuart.  And  then  there  is  another  point.  I  pre- 
[168] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

sume  that  in  your  society  some  kinds  of  ability 
will  be  rare.  And  on  the  method  of  remuneration 
which  you  now  propose,  it  will  be  open  to  those 
possessing  the  ability  to  hold  up  their  services 
for  a  high  price,  as  they  do  now.  So  that  nat- 
ural ability  will  be  able  to  receive  a  reward  which 
according  to  your  analysis  is  really  rent. 
Martin.  That  is  true.  But  I  shall  be  willing  to 
make  that  concession  for  the  sake  of  ensuring  the 
easy  working  of  my  society.  And,  after  all,  as 
we  admitted  at  the  time,  it  is  one  view  of  equity 
that  a  person  is  entitled  to  all  he  can  secure  by 
the  superiority  of  his  natural  abilities.  I  don't 
think  my  Democracy  need  take  any  great  excep- 
tion to  that,  supposing  it  were  otherwise  con- 
venient. 

Stuart.  Still,  it  does  involve  abandoning  your 
professed  principle  of  equity. 
Martin.  I  said  at  the  time  that  I  might  have  to 
modify  it  when  we  came  to  deal  with  this  point. 
But  I  don't  consider  the  objection  very  important. 
For  under  a  system  of  true  equality  of  oppor- 
tunity it  would  be  found,  I  expect,  that  particular 
kinds  of  ability  are  less  rare  than  they  appear 
under  our  conditions,  where  so  much  talent  never 
gets  a  chance  of  development.  I  think  that,  sub- 
stantially and  in  the  main,  the  supply-and-demand 
[169] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

scale  and  the  scale  of  equity  would  tend  to  coin- 
cide, and  that  the  deviations  need  not  seriously 
trouble  us. 

Stuart.  They  would,  perhaps,  trouble  you  more 
seriously  than  you  suppose.  But  I  have  made  my 
point,  and  I  need  not  dwell  upon  it. 
Martin.  Well  then,  to  pass  to  the  next  matter, 
the  other  great  crux  of  my  Democracy  will  be 
the  adjustment  of  supply  to  demand  in  commodi- 
ties. And  there  too  I  propose  to  preserve  the  prin- 
ciple of  automatism. 
Stuart.  How? 

Martin.  The  authorities  will  raise  the  price  of 
goods,  other  things  remaining  equal,  as  the  de- 
mand increases,  and  vice  versa.  This  would  be  a 
signal,  as  it  is  now,  for  an  increased  production 
of  those  commodities  of  which  the  price  was  ris- 
ing, and  therefore,  of  course,  for  an  increased  ap- 
plication of  capital  to  the  processes  of  producing 
them. 

Stuart.  The  saving  of  capital,  and  its  applica- 
tion, would  be  a  great  difficulty.  As  things  are, 
it  is  accomplished  automatically  by  the  operation 
of  the  rate  of  interest.  But  in  your  community 
there  will  be  no  interest  and  no  private  savings. 
The  community,  through  its  officials,  will  have  to 
decide  how  much  capital  shall  be  saved  and  to 
what  it  shall  be  devoted. 

[170] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  That  is  true;  and  in  making  the  cal- 
culation the  officials  must  be  guided  by  the  con- 
ditions of  demand,  actual  or  prospective,  as  pri- 
vate capitalists  are  now.  The  only  difference 
is  that  the  motive  will  be  not  private  greed,  but 
the  public  advantage ;  and  that  there  will  be  no 
appropriation  of  interest  by  individuals. 
Stuart.  Your  officials,  and  your  community  gen- 
erally, on  whom  they  depend,,  will  have  to  be  very 
intelligent  and  very  far-sighted ! 
Martin*  My  institutions  will  tend  to  make  them 
so.  But  will  you  admit  that  by  such  arrange- 
ments as  this  a  collectivist  community  might 
realise  the  minimum  of  regulation  and  the  maxi- 
mum of  automatism? 

Stuart.  The  automatism  would  only  be  partial. 
The  scale  of  wages  and  the  scale  of  prices  would 
determine  the  choice  of  occupations  and  the  char- 
acter of  production,  as  now.  But  these  scales 
themselves  would  be  fixed  by  authority. 
Martin.  Yes. 

Stuart.  But  conceive  the  difficulties !  You  would 
have  to  provide,  in  the  first  place,  officials  at 
least  as  intelligent  and  capable  as  our  best  busi- 
ness-men now  are. 

Martin.  I  shouldn't  despair  of  that.  I  believe 
that  we  in  England  habitually  over-estimate  the 

[171] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

ability  of  business-men,  and  under-estimate  that 
of  officials. 

Stuart.  I  don't  agree  with  you.  But,  even  so, 
business-men,  you  must  allow,  have  a  motive  to 
make  the  best  of  their  ability  incomparably 
stronger  than  any  that  can  influence  officials. 
For  their  whole  success  or  failure  in  life,  their 
fortune  or  their  ruin,  depends  upon  the  results  of 
their  efforts. 

Martin.  Their  motive  is  meaner,  but  it  is  not 
necessarily  stronger.  Even  as  things  are,  I  think 
that  the  achievements  of  our  civil  service,  at 
home  and  abroad,  show  that  the  motive  of  the 
public  good,  and  of  an  honest  man's  self-respect, 
is  sufficiently  strong  to  serve  the  purpose. 
Stuart.  Granting  it  were  —  for  one  can  argue 
for  ever  inconclusively  enough  about  such  mat- 
ters —  there  is  still  another  difficulty  even  more 
formidable.  The  government  of  your  society,  of 
course,  will  be  democratic? 
Martin.  Yes. 

Stuart.  That  means,  then,  that  the  officials  will 
be  more  or  less  directly  controlled  by  the  people 
whose  wages  they  fix,  the  prices  of  whose  goods 
they  determine,  and  a  portion  of  whose  produce 
they  are  setting  apart  to  form  capital,  instead 
of  permitting  its  employment  in  immediate  grati- 
fication. Well,  just  imagine  the  complications! 
[TO] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Every  branch  of  labourers  will  be  trying  to  keep 
up  their  own  wages,  and  to  depress  those  of  other 
branches;  and  all  the  labourers  together  will 
be  trying  to  spend  as  much  as  they  can  on  them- 
selves, and  to  set  aside  as  little  as  possible  for  fu- 
ture generations.  At  present,  when  people  save, 
they  save  for  their  own  children ;  but  the  com- 
munity as  a  whole  has  not,  for  the  descendants 
of  the  community  as  a  whole,  Che  feeling  a  father 
has  for  his  own  offspring.  How  then,  under 
these  conditions,  can  you  expect  your  system  to 
work?  Granted  that  the  officials  were  as  capable 
and  as  public-spirited  as  you  choose  to  suppose, 
—  which  in  itself  is  an  immense  and  unwarrant- 
able assumption, —  yet  a  Democracy  would  never 
allow  them  to  operate  in  the  true  interests  of  the 
community.  Every  trade  would  be  against  every 
other  trade;  and  all  together  would  be  against 
the  interests  of  the  future  and  in  favour  of  those 
of  the  present  generation. 

Martin.    I  wish  I  were  less  candid  than  I  am! 
How  easily  I  should  answer  you. 
Stuart.  How  could  you  answer  me? 
Martin.  I  should  overwhelm  you  with  check  and 
counter-check,   with   local   and   central   councils, 
with  inspectors  and  commissioners  and   commit- 
tees, with  competitive  examinations,  and  security 
of  tenure,  and  all  the  machinery  of  government. 
[173] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

I  should  admit  frankly  that  every  individual, 
and  every  trade  and  occupation,  would  always 
be  trying  to  cheat  the  community ;  and  then  I 
should  claim  to  checkmate  them  all  by  the  in- 
genuity of  my  institutions.  But  I  can't  do  it ! 
Candour  compels  me  to  admit  that  a  community 
whose  morals  should  be  such  as  you  describe, 
would  make  very  little  except  confusion  and  dis- 
aster of  any  form  of  Collectivism. 
Stuart.  Well,  there's  my  case! 
Martin.  A  very  formidable  one!  But  let  me, 
though  I  have  abandoned  one  obvious  line  of  de- 
fence, try  at  any  rate  to  make  something  of 
another.  Let  me  put  in  some  considerations  why 
the  public  morals  of  a  collectivist  community 
might  be  higher  than  you  suppose. 
Stuart.  Of  course,  have  your  say. 
Martin.  My  main  point  is  that  such  a  commu- 
nity would  be  the  first  one  in  the  history  of  the 
world  whose  institutions  were  founded  as  nearly 
as  possible  upon  equity.  Every  citizen  could  in- 
spect them,  and  they  would  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  his  inspection.  Again,  for  the  first  time  in 
the  history  of  the  world,  government  would  have 
as  its  object  the  interests  of  the  whole  community, 
and  not  that  of  a  governing  class.  We  are  also 
supposing  that  our  citizens  are  intelligent  and 
well-educated.  All  of  them  would  understand  the 
[174] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

reason  of  their  public  policy,  and  would  see  it 
to  be  a  policy  for  the  public  Good.  If  then,  as  a 
necessary  incident  in  that  policy,  this  or  that  in- 
terest should  temporarily  suffer  and  this  or  that 
other  temporarily  gain,  I  should  expect  not 
stupid  and  blind  resistance,  but  convinced  and 
intelligent  acquiescence.  Nor  do  I  imagine  the 
citizens  of  such  a  community,  to  be  so  short- 
sighted about  their  own  interest  as  to  refuse  to 
put  aside  from  their  income  of  to-day  what  is 
necessary  to  provide  the  capital  for  their  income 
of  to-morrow.  The  necessity  for  this  is  so  clear, 
so  irrefutable,  so  simply  demonstrable,  that  I 
consider  it  preposterous  to  suppose  that  it  would 
not  be  recognised.  Nor,  again,  do  I  conceive  them 
so  indifferent  to  their  descendants  as  to  be  un- 
willing to  make  provision  for  them.  It  is  true 
that  they  would,  I  think,  rightly,  decline  to  make 
unnecessary  sacrifices.  They  would  probably,  as 
we  have  already  suggested,  limit  their  families. 
They  would  not  undertake  all  the  burdens  of 
the  future  and  leave  to  their  descendants  all  the 
benefits.  But  they  would  presumably  care  for 
their  children,  as  people  do  now;  and  if  the  care 
were  largely  collective,  where  now  it  is  individual, 
I  do  not  agree  with  you  that  it  need  therefore  be 
less  efficient.  It  would  require  no  great  effort  of 
intelligence  to  understand  that  the  welfare  of 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

one's  children  was  bound  up  with  certain  sac- 
rifices of  immediate  enjoyment  demanded  by  the 
community.  And,  that  once  understood,  it  is  tak- 
ing no  very  Utopian  view  of  human  nature  to  sup- 
pose that  the  sacrifice  would  be  willingly  made.  In 
brief,  my  case  is  that  you  infer  too  readily  from 
the  attitude  of  most  men  now  towards  a  govern- 
ment whose  activities  they  but  partially  identify 
with  the  public  interest,  to  their  attitude  towards 
a  government  really  of  their  own  creation,  and 
existing  simply  and  solely  to  administer  institu- 
tions based  upon  a  generally  recognized  equity. 
The  one  thing  is  as  different  as  possible  from 
the  other ;  and  it  is  not  a  foolish  idealism  to  main- 
tain that  in  a  collectivist  community  the  problem 
of  government  might  solve  itself  far  more  easily 
than  the  opponents  of  such  a  society  are  willing 
to  admit. 

(e)  Unregu-       Stuart.  It  might,  but  I  do  not  believe  it  would. 
lated  In-      Martin.  And  I  cannot  prove  that  it  would,  any 
dustry  in  a  more  than  you  can  disprove  it.  Only  experiment 
Democ-         can  decide.  But  since  you  would  not  be  willing 
racy.  to    experiment    in    my    direction,    shall    we    try 

whether  we  can  compromise?  It  might  be  possi- 
ble to  preserve  as  much  automatism  as  we  have  in 
our  own  society,  and  yet  to  secure  as  much  equity 
as  I  demand  for  mine. 

Stuart.  How  would  you  propose  to  do  that? 
[176] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  I  propose  that  you  should  do  it. 
Stuart.  I!  What  have  I  to  do  with  it?  I'm  the 
the  critic,  not  the  constructor. 
Martin.  Still,  you  maintain,  pretty  consistently, 
a  point  of  view.  You  are  the  champion  of  what 
you  conceive  to  be  liberty.  And  my  suggestion 
is  that,  having  worked  out  the  plan  of  a  Society, 
or  rather  of  two  societies,  upon  ihe  basis  of  jus- 
tice and  equity,  we  now  turn  to  your  basis,  and 
see  what  kind  of  results  it  will  give  us,  if  we  build 
upon  it  consistently.  Perhaps  it  may  be  a  result 
we  can  both  accept. 

Stuart.    Nothing   is   less    likely,    I    should   say. 
However,  try  by  all  means. 

Martin.  It  is  you  who  ought  to  take  the  lead 
here,  for  it  is  your  thesis  we  are  to  develop. 
Stuart.  No,  I  decline  altogether.  I'm  here  under 
protest  and  upon  sufferance,  to  try  to  keep  you 
and   Harington   sane.    It's  not  my   business  to 
build.  I  don't  profess  to  be  an  architect. 
Martin.  I  must  do  my  best  then,  subject  to  your 
correction.  You  say,  as  I  understand,  that  lib- 
erty ought  to  be  the  basis  of  society. 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  But  what  do  you  mean  by  liberty? 
Stuart.  I  mean  something  quite  precise  —  free- 
dom from  governmental  regulation. 
Martin.  You  are  an  Anarchist,  then? 
[177] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  Do  I  look  like  one? 
Martin.  Not  at  all,  I  confess.  You  look  like  a 
man  who  believes  in  property  and  the  police. 
Stuart.  You  do  me  no  more  than  justice! 
Martin.  In  that  case  we  shall  have  to  discover 
for  your  principle  something  more  precise  than 
freedom  from  governmental  regulation.  For  no 
regulation  is  more  constant,  more  crushing,  more 
radical  and  severe,  than  that  which  is  involved  in 
property  and  the  police.  In  consequence  of  them 
a  kind  of  man  survives  and  comes  to  the  top  who 
might  otherwise  either  not  exist,  or  occupy  the 
most  degraded  position.  Just  imagine,  to  illus- 
trate my  point,  the  sudden  dissolution  of  gov- 
ernment, so  that  our  rich  men  and  captains  of 
industry  could  no  longer  call  upon  the  public 
force  to  protect  their  persons  and  property.  What 
a  transformation  scene  it  would  be !  I  seem  to  see 
Mr.  Carnegie  and  Mr.  Pierpont  Morgan  and  Lord 
Rothschild  and  other  great  men,  on  the  run, 
puffy,  exhausted,  mad  with  terror,  having  sud- 
denly discovered  that  they  have  no  personal  force 
or  capacity  to  secure  anything  that  they  have 
got,  let  alone  acquiring  any  more;  I  seem  to  see 
professors,  like  myself,  impotent  and  dazed,  ask- 
ing charity  of  sturdy  ruffians;  I  seem  to  see 
the  financiers,  the  lawyers,  the  men  on  the  stock- 
exchange,  at  their  wits'  end,  while  all  the  good 
[  178  ] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

things  of  the  world  are  being  divided  up  among 
those  who,  for  the  moment,  are  morally  or  phys- 
ically ablest  to  get  hold  of  them  and  to  keep 
them. 

Stuart.  Those  wouldn't  necessarily  be  the  poor- 
est people. 

Martin.  Certainly  not.  Some  of  the  younger 
bloods  on  the  Stock-Exchange,  who  keep  up  their 
athletics,  would  have  quite  a  good  chance,  though 
I'm  afraid  the  great  financiers  and  bankers  would 
come  off  badly.  But  however  that  might  be,  after 
a  very  short  period,  in  which  order,  wealth  and 
culture  would  disappear,  there  would  ensue  a  state 
of  permanent  insecurity,  in  which,  at  any  moment, 
the  physically  strongest,  most  cunning,  and  so 
on,  would  assert  themselves  as  the  most  powerful. 
Such,  I  suppose  in  your  view  would  be  a  state 
of  complete  freedom  from  governmental  regula- 
tion. And  since  you  do  not  approve  of  that,  I 
must  ask  what  it  is  you  do  approve  and  desire  to 
bring  about. 

Stuart.  I  want,  of  course,  the  greatest  amount 
of  freedom  from  governmental  restraint  that  is 
compatible  with  the  system  of  private  property. 
Martin.  But  what  is  the  principle,  or  ideal,  that 
makes  you  value  so  highly  private  property, 
that  you  are  willing,  in  order  to  secure  it,  to  ad- 
mit this  great  engine  of  government? 
[179] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  Isn't  all  this  rather  elementary  and 
superfluous?  Of  course,  like  all  sensible  men,  I 
value  private  property  as  the  necessary  condition 
of  that  free  activity  of  individuals  which  leads 
to  the  greatest  sum  of  material  wealth,  and  so  of 
progress. 

Martin.  All  individuals?  Or  some  privileged 
ones? 

Stuart.  No,  all. 

Martin.  I  may  take  it  then,  to  begin  with,  that 
you,  like  me,  are  a  Democrat,  and  that,  so  far,  you 
side  with  me  as  against  Harington. 
Stuart.  Yes,  I  think  I  do. 

Martin.  Some  kind  of  equity,  then,  you  admit, 
as  well  as  some  kind  of  liberty? 
Stuart.  Of  course! 

Martin'.  If  then,  it  could  be  managed,  without  any 
sacrifice  of  liberty,  that  in  each  generation  every- 
body at  birth  should  start  equal,  so  far  as  ex- 
ternal advantages  are  concerned,  and  that  all 
should  then  be  free  to  develop  their  faculties,  you 
would  have  got  something  like  the  system  you 
seem  to  desire? 
Stuart.  Yes,  I  think  so. 

Martin.  Your  principle  then  is  really  that  of 
equality  of  opportunity? 

Stuart.  But  only  so  far  as  that  is  compatible 
with  liberty. 

[180] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  It  is,  I  think,  compatible  with  liberty,  in 
your  sense  of  the  term;  only,  if  we  work  it  out, 
it  will  give  us,  I  think,  a  society  almost  as  differ- 
ent from  our  own  as  Harington's  Aristocracy  or 
my  Democracy. 
Stuart.  How  so? 

Martin.  That  is  what  we  must  see.  And  first,  to 
get  clearer  about  liberty.  You  said  that  you 
meant  by  it  freedom  from  governmental  interfer- 
ence as  complete  as  may  be  compatible  with  pri- 
vate property,  and,  I  suppose  I  may  add,  with 
security  of  person,  and  the  obligation  of  contract. 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  But  by  private  property  what  are  we 
going  to  mean?  Are  we  to  mean  necessarily  all 
the  incidents  and  forms  it  now  assumes  in  the  law 
of  western  states? 
Stuart.  That  is  what  I  meant. 
Martin.  I  must  raise  the  question,  then,  whether 
you   ought  to   mean   it ;   whether,   that   is,   you 
could  not  better  arrive  at  your  professed  ideal, 
which  is  to  combine  freedom  from  public  regula- 
tion with  equality  of  opportunity, —  whether  you 
could  not  arrive  at  that  by  some  quite  different 
system  which  would  still  admit  of  private  prop- 
erty? I  suppose  you  are  willing  to  discuss  that 
question  ? 
Stuart.  Certainly. 

[181] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  Well,  then,  I  must  remind  you,  to  begin 
with,  that,  under  our  present  system,  there  is  hard- 
ly even  an  approximation  to  equality  of  oppor- 
tunity. That  results  clearly  from  all  our  pre- 
vious analysis.  Opportunity  varies  with  classes, 
and  classes  are  numerous  and  exclusive.  Some 
open  the  gate  to  an  idle  life,  others  to  the  pro- 
fessions, others  to  clerical  work,  others  to  skilled 
trades,  others  to  unskilled  labour,  others  to 
starvation.  Generally  speaking,  we  admitted,  did 
we  not,  that  that  was  so. 

Stuart.  Subject  to  the  fact  that  there  are  oppor- 
tunities to  pass  from  one  class  to  another. 
Martin.  Yes.  But  still  the  broad  fact  is  as  I  de- 
scribed it.  And  why?  Partly,  no  doubt,  because 
the  children  of  those  who  monopolise  any  grade 
of  work  have  specially  favourable  opportunities 
of  being  introduced  to  that  work.  But,  prima- 
rily, because  we  permit  the  private  inheritance  of 
wealth.  Now  it  seems  clear  that  to  abrogate  that 
part  of  the  law  of  private  property  would  not  at 
all  diminish  liberty,  while  it  would,  or  might,  in- 
definitely increase  equality  of  opportunity. 
Stuart.  But  there  comes  the  difficulty.  If  prop- 
erty is  not  inherited  by  individuals,  it  must  revert 
to  the  community.  And  then,  either  at  once  or  by 
a  gradual  process,  according  as  you  make  your 
[182] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

transition,  you  fall  into  Collectivism,  which  is  ex- 
actly what  we  are  proposing  now  to  avoid. 
Martin.  Let  me  distinguish !  We  fall,  I  admit, 
into  the  public  ownership  of  land  and  capital; 
but  not  necessarily  into  its  public  management, 
which  is  what  I  understand  by  Collectivism.  And 
just  here  comes  in  the  difference  bptween  the 
Democracy  I  worked  out  and  the  society  we  are 
now  constructing.  We  must  admit  public  owner- 
ship ;  we  need  not  admit  public  management. 
Stuart.  How  would  you  arrange  that? 
Martin.  In  a  way  that  is  already  familiar  enough 
in  practice;  as,  for  instance,  whenever  a  Public 
Authority  owns  the  tramway-system  and  leases 
it  to  a  company.  Why  should  not  that  plan  be 
indefinitely  extended?  Why  should  not  the  Pub- 
lic become  by  degrees  the  owner  of  all  capital, 
and  lease  it  out  to  individuals  or  companies  for  a 
fixed  percentage,  on  the  security  of  the  under- 
takings, becoming,  in  fact,  universal  debenture- 
holder,  while  private  persons  put  all  their 
energies  into  developing  the  undertakings,  and  ap- 
propriate all  the  profit  beyond  what  goes  to  the 
State?  Of  course,  at  the  death  of  these  persons, 
their  interest  would  again  revert  to  the  commu- 
nity; and  much  of  this  property  that  came  to 
the  Public  would  be  devoted  to  public  purposes, 
[183] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

beneficial  equally  to  all,  to  town-improvement, 
to  sanitation,  education  and  the  like,  to  every- 
thing in  a  word  that  would  tend  to  equalise  the 
start  in  life.  So  that,  ultimately,  you  would 
really  get  what  you  profess  to  aim  at,  liberty  for 
everyone  to  manage  his  own  life,  to  take  risks,  to 
compete,  without  any  governmental  regulation ; 
and  that  liberty  for  the  first  time  made  really 
effective  for  all  by  the  development  of  equal  op- 
portunities. 

Stuart.  With  the  trifling  objection  that,  by  the 
abolition  of  inheritance,  you  would  have  deprived 
men  of  the  principal  stimulus  which  keeps  the 
competitive  organisation  going. 
Martin.  Is  it  the  principal  stimulus?  We  have 
already  discussed  that.  And  I  maintain  that  am- 
bition, interest  in  work,  the  love  of  doing  well 
and  succeeding,  is  a  far  more  potent,  as  well  as 
more  honourable  motive  than  the  desire  to  hand 
on  wealth  after  one's  death.  Besides,  even  at  the 
lowest,  a  man's  only  chance  of  acquiring  com- 
forts and  privileges  beyond  the  average  would 
depend  upon  his  success  in  conducting  his  busi- 
ness; and  that  more,  not  less,  than  it  does  now, 
since  he  would  not  start  handicapped  by  inherited 
property. 

Stuart.  But  do  you  really  imagine  that  a  man  is 

going  to  develop  a  business,  and  invest  a  great 

[184] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

part  of  his  income  in  it  as  capital,  when  all  that 
he  has  done  will  revert  to  the  Public  at  his  death? 
Martin.  I  think  that  he  will  do  so  if  you  are 
right  in  your  fundamental  assumption  that  what 
all  men  desire  more  than  anything  else  is  in- 
dependence, initiative  and  responsibility.  They 
might  be  offered  the  alternative,  either  to  become 
paid  servants  of  the  community,  taking  no  risks 
and  contemplating  no  exceptional  rewards ;  or  to 
engage  in  business  on  their  own  behalf,  with  the 
chance  of  acquiring  great  wealth,  as  well  as  of 
exercising  their  abilities  at  their  own  discretion 
subject  to  no  authoritative  control.  If  the  for- 
mer alternative  were  generally  chosen,  the  society 
would  pass  into  the  type  I  described,  a  democratic 
Collectivism ;  if  the  latter,  it  would  be  the  society 
based  at  once  upon  liberty,  or,  as  I  prefer  to  call 
it,  automatism,  and  upon  equality  of  opportunity, 
which  seems  to  be  the  logical  expression  of  your 
ideal. 

Stuart.  To  make  a  society  conform  to  anything 
I  could  consider  ideal  you  must  at  least  allow 
so  much  inheritance  of  wealth  that  parents  may 
be  at  liberty  to  provide  for  their  own  children. 
Martin.  I  am  supposing  that,  with  the  ample 
funds  at  the  disposal  of  the  community,  much  that 
is  now  done  by  parents  for  their  children  will 
be  done  by  the  Public.  But  I  hare  no  objection 
[185] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

to  allowing  a  certain  measure  of  private  inherit- 
ance, so  long  as  it  is  kept  very  small,  and  does 
not  give  differential  advantages  to  the  children  of 
the  rich.  Otherwise,  our  equality  of  opportunity 
is  destroyed. 

Stuart.  And  what  happens  under  this  system  to 
the  equity  which  you  said  was  to  be  combined 
with  liberty?  For,  as  I  understand,  these  men 
who  undertake  business  on  their  own  account  may 
acquire  considerable  riches. 

Martin.  They  may ;  but  all  they  acquire  will  be 
really  the  product  of  their  exceptional  ability. 
And  exceptional  ability,  I  conceded,  in  a  system 
based  on  supply  and  demand,  must  get  its  pro- 
portional reward.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
will  not,  as  they  now  do,  get  either  rent  (save 
of  ability),  or  interest,  or  legacies.  And,  gener- 
ally speaking,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  in  this  point 
of  equity,  the  results  of  the  system  will  be 
much  the  same  as  those  produced  by  my  Collectiv- 
ist  State.  For  if  everybody  really  started  with 
equal  opportunities,  educational  and  financial,  so 
that  they  could  effectively  choose  their  occupa- 
tion, and  if  the  only  superiorities  and  inferiorities 
left  were  those  of  natural  capacity,  then  though 
there  would  be  inequalities  and  distinctions,  as 
there  are  now,  they  would  be  so  different  from  the 
present  ones  that  the  whole  face  of  society  would 
[186] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

be  changed.  To  begin  with,  classes  would  no 
longer  be  stereotyped;  there  would  not,  in  fact, 
be  classes  at  all,  there  would  only  be  differences 
of  occupation.  And  the  wages  in  all  occupations 
would  tend  to  equality.  For  there  would  really 
be  that  constant  flow  towards  those  which  for  the 
time  being  were  more  advantageous,  and  away 
from  those  which  were  less  so,  which  Economists 
postulate  as  the  basis  of  existent  society,  but 
which,  as  they  admit,  is  rather,  so  to  speak,  a 
pious  aspiration  than  a  fact.  If,  indeed,  it  be  true 
that  first-class  ability  is  very  rare,  then  posts  re- 
quiring it  would  still  command  a  high  wage ;  but 
the  general  effect  would  be  to  raise  the  reward  of 
the  kinds  of  work  that  are  now  badly  paid,  and  to 
lower  that  of  the  kinds  that  are  well  paid.  And 
with  an  equalisation  of  the  standard  of  life  would 
go  an  equalisation  of  manners.  Anybody,  what- 
ever his  occupation,  would  associate  with  anybody 
according  to  propinquity,  or  personal  attraction, 
or  whatever  it  might  be.  The  dock-labourer  would 
come  home,  put  on  dress-clothes,  and  sit  down  to 
dinner  to  discuss  the  latest  play  or  novel  with 
the  financier's  wife.  The  professor  would  go  out 
to  the  carpenter's  "  At  Home."  The  whole  soci- 
ety, while  it  would  be  mobile  and  keen  in  a  far 
higher  degree  than  at  present,  would  be  also  far 
more  equal  and  fraternal.  It  would  resemble  my 
[187] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Democracy  much  more  than  it  resembles  our  pres- 
ent society.  And  the  only  important  difference  be- 
tween your  community  and  mine  would  be  that 
the  scale  of  remuneration  and  of  prices  would  be 
fixed  in  the  one  case  by  the  higgling  of  the 
market  and  in  the  other  by  authority. 
Stuart.  A  great  advantage  on  the  side  of  what 
you  are  pleased  to  call  my  community ! 
Martin.  I  do  not  dispute  it;  I  have  no  love  for 
authority ;  I  would  get  rid  of  it  altogether  if  I 
could. 

Stuart.  I  understand  then,  that  on  reflexion  you 
abandon  your  collectivist  Democracy  for  this 
other  form  of  society,  whatever  you  may  call  it? 
Martin.  Let  us  call  it,  if  you  like,  an  individual- 
istic, as  distinguished  from  a  collectivist  Democ- 
racy ;  the  names  are  not  good,  but  that  need  not 
trouble  us.  But  as  to  the  point,  which  of  the  two 
I  prefer,  your  society,  I  admit,  has  the  advantage 
that  it  is  more  completely  automatic.  The  only 
question  is,  whether  it  has  corresponding  disad- 
vantages. 

™«  Stuart.  Of  what  kind? 

"  Spirit "  of  Martin.  I  am  not  yet  sure,  but  I  have  a  suspicion 
the  com-  that  if  we  now  proceed  to  consider  what  I  will 
munities  Caii5  after  Montesquieu,  the  "  Spirit  "  of  the  so- 
that  have  cieties  we  are  examining,  we  shall  perhaps  find 
been  con-  that  my  community  has  in  this  point  the  advan- 
sidered.  tage  over  yours. 

[188] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  I  am  not  clear  yet  what  you  are  driving 
at ;  please  explain  yourself.  For  I  begin  to  feel 
quite  a  parental  interest  in  this  society  you  have 
fathered  upon  me,  and  am  anxious  to  defend  my 
supposititious  child. 

Martin.  By  the  spirit  of  a  society  I  mean  so 
much  of  its  moral  attitude  as  is  directly  connected 
with  its  institutions,  so  that  the  one  follows  from 
the  other. 

Stuart.  Such  a  spirit  must  be  very  difficult  to 
seize  and  define. 

Martin.  Very ;  but  we  must  try  to  do  it.  For  it 
is  the  flower  of  the  society,  that  in  which  its  in- 
stitutions issue  and  by  which  they  must  be  judged. 
So  that  it  must  be  the  last  term  in  my  description 
of  the  communities  we  are  examining,  summing 
up  all  that  has  gone  before. 
Stuart.  Go  on  then. 

Martin.    We  will  start,  as  usual,  with  our  own     (1)  The  Spirit 
society,  although  it  is  the  most  difficult  to  char-  of  Exist- 

acterise.  inff  s°- 

Stuart.  Why?  ™ty. 

Martin.  Because  it  proceeds  from  no  principle, 
but  from  the  negation  of  one.  I,  at  least,  after 
all  we  have  admitted,  can  only  say  that  all  its 
characteristics  follow  from  its  fundamental  in- 
equity. 
Stuart.  How  so? 

[189] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  It  is,  as  we  saw,  a  class-state,  which 
means  that  everyone  is  born,  without  rhyme  or 
reason,  into  an  advantageous  or  disadvantageous 
position.  Consequently,  the  main  object  of  every- 
one is  to  rise,  as  it  is  called,  or  to  prevent  himself 
from  falling.  This  is  true  of  all  the  individuals 
within  each  class,  and  also  of  the  classes  them- 
selves, in  their  relations  to  one  another.  From  this 
point  of  view,  competition  is  the  most  obvious 
mark  of  the  society;  and  the  inner  correlative  of 
competition  is  egotism.  Further,  since  the  funda- 
mental inequity  is  one  of  property,  the  competi- 
tion is  for  money ;  and  thus  cupidity  is  its  motive 
—  a  cupidity  intensified  almost  beyond  belief  by 
the  fact  that  the  mass  of  men  live  on  the  borders 
of  starvation,  while  the  few,  however  rich  they 
are,  never  think  they  have  enough  to  save  them 
from  the  possibility  of  falling  to  the  same  level. 
Egotism,  and  cupidity  —  these,  then,  to  begin 
with,  are  the  most  obvious  components  of  the 
spirit  of  our  society.  But  again,  the  class-system 
involves  not  only  antagonism,  but  subordination, 
or  rather  insubordination.  Most  people  are  the 
employees  of  other  people.  And  as  this  relation 
is  not  based  upon  equity,  or  upon  any  natural 
fitness,  but  upon  the  accident  of  birth,  the  rela- 
tion between  master  and  servant  is  one  of  per- 
petual discord,  veiled  or  overt.  On  the  one  hand 
[190] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

is  domination,  on  the  other  rebellion ;  insomuch 
that  the  only  political  party  which  appeals  to  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  and  expresses  their  view 
of  the  situation  has  formulated  the  character  of 
our  society  as  "class-war."  Further,  in  conse- 
quence of  these  institutions,  as  we  saw,  many  peo- 
ple live,  without  working,  upon  dividends  and 
rents;  and  this  produces,  even  without  our  know- 
ing it,  an  extraordinary  moral  attitude  which  I 
will  call,  euphemistically,  irresponsibility.  To  re- 
ceive money  becomes  to  us  a  kind  of  sacred  right, 
and  how  it  is  obtained  a  matter  of  indifference. 
And  this  attitude  again  affects  those  who  are  di- 
rectly conducing  business.  It  is  their  duty,  they 
hold,  to  secure  dividends,  at  all  costs,  for  their 
shareholders.  Thus  the  moral  responsibility  is 
tossed  backward  and  forward  between  the  directors 
and  managers,  and  the  receivers  of  dividends,  each 
rejecting  it  upon  the  other.  And  you  get  the 
extraordinary  spectacle  of  kindly  fathers,  phil- 
anthropic spinsters,  socialistic  dons  and  professors 
of  moral  philosophy,  by  the  accumulated  weight 
of  their  individual  demands  for  dividends,  sweat- 
ing the  lives  out  of  women  in  hovels  and  dens 
of  destitution,  robbing,  torturing,  enslaving, 
murdering  whole  populations  of  defenceless  na- 
tives, and  voting  indignantly  and  passionately 
for  the  perpetuation  of  these  iniquities  under  the 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

plea  that  they  are  rallying  in  defence  of  property. 
And  they  are  right,  for  property,  in  our  society, 
means  exploitation;  and  from  that  fact  follows 
our  whole  moral  bias.  Egotism,  cupidity,  irre- 
sponsibility (which  deserves  a  harder  name), — 
what  else  shall  I  add?  Isolation!  For  our  class- 
system  cuts  us  off  almost  absolutely  one  from 
another.  Different  education,  different  standards 
of  life,  from  which  proceed  different  manners,  in- 
terests, morals,  conventions,  partition  us  into  ex- 
clusive sections  by  barriers  which  philanthropy 
vainly  tries  to  pass.  We  meet  one  another  as  aliens 
and  strangers ;  the  culture  of  the  artist  or  pro- 
fessor, the  dumb  wisdom  of  the  manual  worker, 
each  is  shut  off  from  the  fertilising  stream  of 
the  other.  The  intellectual,  emotional  and  spirit- 
ual life  of  every  class  is  impoverished  by  its  isola- 
tion from  the  others ;  and  we  creep  through  life, 
miserable  starvelings,  mutilated,  marred  and 
ashamed,  yearning  vainly  through  walls  of  glass 
raised  by  our  institutions  for  the  comradeship 
that  shall  quicken  and  complete  our  heritage  of 
humanity.  Egotism,  cupidity,  irresponsibility, 
isolation  —  shall  I  go  on?  It  is  a  long  tale  and  a 
dreary  one. 

Stuart.  Enliven  it  then,  as  you  fairly  may,  by 

brighter  episodes.   Speak  of  cooperation  and  mu- 

[192] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

tual  aid,  of  kindliness  and  charity,  of  public 
spirit  and  personal  affection. 
Martin.  Of  all  these  I  would  be  glad  to  speak  in 
their  place;  but  their  place  is  not  here.  They  do 
not  proceed  from  our  institutions,  they  are  the  re- 
action of  human  nature  against  them.  They  are 
not  components  of  the  spirit  of  our  society,  but 
rudiments  of  the  spirit  of  the  society  that  shall 
be. 

Stuart.  At  least  you  must  admit  that  some  good 
qualities  proceed  from  our  institutions  —  energy, 
inventiveness,  self-reliance,  thrift,  all  that  the 
Economists  praise. 

Martin.  I  will  not  dispute  it ;  I  do  not  want  to     (2)  The  Spirit 
paint  my  picture  over-dark.  Let  us  leave  it  so,  of  an  Ar- 

then,  with  its  light  and  shade,  thus  indicated  in  istocracy. 

a  sketch;  and  let  us  turn  to  the  other  imaginary 
societies  with  which  we  are  comparing  it.  And 
first,  what  about  Harington's  Aristocracy?  If 
we  may  disturb  him  from  his  reverie  to  ask  him; 
for  I  am  afraid  it  is  long  since  our  conversation 
has  interested  him. 

Harington.  You  do  me  injustice;  I  have  listened 
with  the  closest  attention  and  I  am  prepared  with 
my  answer.  I  bring  forward  in  defence  of  the 
spirit  of  my  society,  the  most  illustrious  of  names, 
Plato.  Were  I  an  artist  as  he,  I  would  have  made 
a  picture  as  beautiful  as  his.  But  as  it  is,  recall 
[193] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

his  to  your  mind,  and  take  it  to  be  mine.  For 
my  Aristocracy  does  not  profess  to  be  anything 
but  a  transcript  from  his,  or  at  least,  where  I 
have  altered  the  original,  the  alterations  do  not 
affect  its  spirit. 

Martin.  Your  society,  then,  like  his,  proceeds 
from  a  principle  which  you,  after  him,  call  Jus- 
tice; and  its  spirit,  I  suppose,  we  may  call  that 
of  Order,  or  better,  Harmony,  his  own  favourite 
term;  every  class  in  the  community  striking  its 
own  note,  perfectly  and  infallibly  in  tune,  no 
other  sound  possible  to  it,  or  by  it  desired,  and 
all  kept  exactly  strung  to  the  true  pitch  by  the 
watchful  care  of  the  governors  —  that  certainly 
would  be  a  wonderful  instrument  for  some  god 
to  listen  to  and  enjoy!  But  I  am  not  willing  to 
concede  harmony  as  an  exclusive  prerogative  to 
your  society ;  for  I  claim  it,  too,  for  mine.  There 
is,  however,  something  else,  not  found  in  mins, 
which  is  peculiar  to  yours. 
Harington.  What? 

Martin.  Rule  and  obedience.  Everything  in  your 
society  is  ordered  by  the  governing  class.  They, 
it  is  supposed,  command  perfectly  in  the  interest 
of  the  whole;  and  each  part  perfectly  obeys. 
There  is  no  tyranny,  and  no  rebellion,  but  the 
willing  performance  of  a  function  recognised  as 
[194] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

appropriate  under  a  direction  recognised  as  wise 
and  good. 
Harington.  Yes ! 

Martin.  And  since  that  attitude  proceeds  inevita- 
bly from  your  institutions,  and  they,  again,  are 
supported  by  it,  it  is  the  spirit  of  your  society. 
But  the  spirit  of  mine  is  very  different. 
Harington.  How  do  you  describe  it? 
Martin.  If  it  were  not  for  Stuart,  I  should  like 
to  call  it  the  spirit  of  liberty. 
Stuart.  Oh! 

Martin.  In  comparison,  let  me  at  least  say,  with 
Harington's.  For  though,  in  my  society  —  as 
also  in  yours,  which  in  this  point  I  class  with 
mine  —  the  citizens  must  obey,  they  obey  only 
their  own  laws,  which  they  frame  and  alter 
as  they  choose.  And  these  laws  are  really  the 
same  for  all,  in  the  sense  that  all,  not  some,  equally 
profit  by  them ;  and  are  really  made  by  all,  in  the 
sense  that  no  class  controls  for  this  purpose  the 
rest  of  the  community.  Such  a  society  I  call 
free,  in  comparison  with  Harington's ;  and,  so 
compared,  his  appears  to  me  like  a  beautiful 
statue  cunningly  moved  by  the  art  of  the  master 
who  created  it;  while  mine  presents  itself  as  an 
organism  all  of  whose  parts  are  alive  and  make 
up  the  life  of  the  whole. 

Harington.  I  demur  to  that;  I  would  say  rather 
[195] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

mine  is  a  true  human  creature,  dominated,  as  it 
should  be,  by  the  head ;  while  yours  is  some  kind 
of  protozoon  whose  organs  are  not  yet  differen- 
tiated. 

Martin.  Or  perhaps  mine  is  superhuman,  and 
every  part  a  man.  But  I  will  not  bandy  meta- 
phors with  you.  The  difference,  at  any  rate,  is 
simple  and  clear  to  us  all.  Every  citizen  in  my 
society  is  equally  ruler  and  ruled,  and  in  that 
sense  free;  whereas  in  yours,  the  governing  class 
rules,  and  the  rest  obey.  And  it  is  fair  to  say, 
if  we  so  understand  our  terms,  that  the  spirit 
of  your  society  is  authority  and  of  mine  liberty. 
Harington.  Very  well. 
(4)  The  Spirit  Martin.  But  now  comes  the  distinction  between 

of  an  in-     Stuart's   society   and   mine;    a   subordinate    dis- 

dividualis-    tinction,  as  I  think. 

tic  Democ-  Stuart.  Mine,  I  maintain,  is  freer  than  yours. 

racy.  Martin.  I  prefer  the  term  used  before;  yours  is 

more  automatic.  In  mine  everyone  is  an  employee 
of  the  community,  that  is  to  say,  each  of  all. 
This,  I  think,  is  its  essential  characteristic;  and 
the  spirit  of  its  citizens,  if  it  achieved  its  pur- 
pose, would  be  that  of  the  best  civil  servant, 
receiving  but  not  working  for  a  salary ;  work- 
ing rather  for  the  work's  sake  and  the  public 
good. 

Stuart.  Yes,  and,  as  I  believe,  with  all  the  inertia, 

obstructiveness  and  stupidity   of   civil   servants. 

[196] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Whereas  my  citizens  —  if  I  am  to  adopt  them 
for  the  moment  —  would,  if  such  a  society  could 
come  into  existence  at  all,  retain  the  initiative 
and  energy  which  is  characteristic  of  our  own. 
Martin.  And  retain  also  its  competitive  spirit, 
and  something  at  least  of  its  egotism  and  cupid- 
ity. Something,  too,  perhaps,  of  its  spirit  of 
tyranny  and  rebellion,  since  most  men,  as  now, 
will  be  employees  of  other  men;  and  something 
of  its  isolation. 

Stuart.  Not  much,  if  any,  of  all  this;  seeing 
that,  as  you  describe  it,  it  will  be  a  society  based 
upon  equity,  and  in  which  no  hereditary  classes 
would  exist. 

Martin.  That  is  true;  the  evils  of  this  kind  will 
certainly  be  negligible,  compared  to  what  they 
are  among  ourselves.  Still,  competition  remain- 
ing, and  the  relation  of  employer  and  employed, 
your  society  will  so  far  resemble  our  own,  for  Good 
and  for  Evil.  Shall  we  say  then,  after  this  expla- 
nation, that  the  spirit  of  your  Democracy  will 
be  self-help,  and  that  of  mine  public  service? 
Stuart.  I  am  content. 

Martin.  It  remains  then  now,  having  described 
our  societies,  to  compare  them.  And  first,  I  would 
ask,  do  any  of  us,  does  even  Stuart,  prefer  the 
society  we  actually  have  to  any  of  the  types  we 
have  described? 

Stuart.  I  should  honestly  prefer  it  to  Haring- 
[197] 


sidered. 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

ton's  Aristocracy ;  and  I  have  grave  doubts  about 
your  Democracy.  I  will  confess,  however,  that  if 
the  society  you  fathered  upon  me  were  to  be 
practicable,  I  should  prefer  it  to  our  own. 
Martin.  I  will  be  content  with  that.  And,  on  the 
strength  of  it,  I  will  suppose  our  existing  society 
excluded  from  the  discussion ;  and  will  go  on  to 
the  difference  between  Harington  and  myself. 
For  I  presume  that  he  still  prefers  his  society  to 
mine? 

Harington.  I  confess  that  I  begin  to  have  grave 
doubts ;  but  I  will  not  give  up  without  a  struggle. 
Martin.  We  will  try  then,  Stuart  and  I,  to  com- 
plete your  conversion.  For  I  suppose,  in  this 
point,  I  may  count  Stuart  an  ally? 
Stuart.  Certainly. 

Martin.  Well,  let  us  proceed  to  compare  these 
two  societies  in  their  principle.  We  already  saw 
that  Harington's  Aristocracy  was  authoritative, 
and  my  Democracy,  in  a  certain  sense,  free.  But 
that  did  not  convince  him  of  the  superiority  of 
the  latter.  And  in  fact  that  distinction  itself  goes 
back  to  a  deeper  one,  which  we  must  now  bring 
into  relief.  What  do  you  say,  Harington,  is  the 
fundamental  principle  of  your  Aristocracy? 
Harington.  As  I  have  always  insisted,  and  you 
have  agreed,  it  is  Justice,  in  the  Platonic  sense. 
To  every  member  of  my  community  is  to  be  as- 
[198] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

signed  a  function  exactly  suited  to  his  capacity ; 
and  that  capacity  is  to  be  developed  by  the  ap- 
propriate education  and  furnished  with  the  ap- 
propriate means. 

Martin.  I  remember  that  you  called  that  princi- 
ple justice;  and  hitherto  I  have  not  challenged 
it.  Nor  would  I  do  so  now,  if  the  question  were 
only  one  of  words.  But,  in  fact,  I  believe  there 
is  something  implied  in  the  ordinary  use  of  the 
word  justice  which  is  contradicted  by  the  institu- 
tions of  your  community.  And  it  is  important 
that  we  should  disentangle  that. 
Harington.  What  do  you  mean?  What  can  there 
be  contrary  to  justice  in  assigning  to  every  one 
exactly  the  function  for  which  he  is  fitted,  and 
all  the  requisite  means  for  performing  it?  I  ad- 
mit that  it  is  contrary  to  equality,  but  that  is  a 
very  different  matter.  People  now  seem  to  think 
that  every  function  ought  to  be  accessible  to 
everyone,  whatever  his  capacity.  Anybody  is  to 
teach,  anybody  to  trade,  anybody  to  govern. 
But  that  is  not  justice,  it  is  injustice. 
Martin.  Certainly  I  admit  that  if  really  men  were 
fatally  produced  by  nature  as  narrowly  special- 
ised as  you  suppose  your  citizens  to  be;  then  to 
organise  them  as  you  propose  would  probably 
be  to  come  as  near  justice  as  would  be  practicable. 
But  my  criticism  is  that  you  do  not  find  them  so 
[199] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

specialised  by  nature,  but  deliberately  make  them 
so  by  your  institutions.  That  was  the  whole  ob- 
ject, was  it  not,  of  the  system  of  breeding  you 
proposed? 

Harington.  Yes.  But  what  then? 
Martin.  Why  then  you,  like  Plato,  having  it, 
let  us  suppose,  in  your  power  to  produce  men  of 
equal  capacities,  deliberately  choose  to  produce 
them  unequal ;  and  that  is  what  I  think  most  men 
would  challenge  as  unjust. 

Harington.  Surely  you  can't  be  unjust  to  men 
before  they  are  born?  Justice  is  relevant  to  ac- 
tual men.  And  all  I  am  concerned  with  is  to  treat 
my  citizens  justly  once  I  have  got  them. 
Martin.  But  you  don't  get  them  on  your  scheme, 
you  make  them.  Let  me  put  my  point  in  another 
way.  The  first  principle  of  your  polity  is  not 
really,  when  we  look  at  your  scheme  of  breeding, 
what  you  said  it  was,  the  adaptation  of  function 
to  capacity,  but  rather  that  of  capacity  to  func- 
tion. For  you  postulate  that  capacities  shall  be 
artificially  produced  not  merely  unequal,  but 
elaborately  unequal  on  a  narrowly  specialised 
scale.  What  then  is  the  principle  that  determines 
that? 

Harington.  I  suppose  what  was  really  influencing 

me  there  (though  I  never  before  put  the  question 

to  myself)  was  the  perception  that  in  any  soci- 

[200] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

etj,  and  especially  in  a  complex  one,  there  must 
be  a  number  of  different  functions,  and  that  order 
demands  that  to  function  faculty  shall  be  adapted. 
Martin.  Really,  then  your  first  principle  is  spe- 
cialisation, not  justice?  And  that  is  true  also  of 
Plato,  whom  you  follow. 
Harington.  Perhaps  so. 

Stuart.  Let  us  look  then  at  this  principle  of 
specialisation,  and  see  what  we  think  of  it.  Do 
you  really  judge  it  to  be  a  good  thing  in  itself 
that  men  should  be  simply  tools?  That  one  should 
pull  a  lever,  another  stoke  fires,  another  add  up 
figures,  another  sweep  crossings,  and  so  on 
through  all  the  occupations  of  a  complicated 
society,  far  more  numerous  and  more  minute  than 
we  can  pause  to  enumerate ;  each  worker  being  as 
far  as  possible  fitted  to  do  that  one  thing  and 
nothing  else,  fitted  indeed  so  exactly  that,  as  you 
claim,  he  will  not  even  feel  any  desire  ever  to  do 
anything  else,  but  find  his  whole  demand  upon 
life  satisfied  by  being  furnished  with  the  means 
and  opportunity  to  do  precisely  that?  Is  that 
a  picture  of  men  which  you  like  to  contemplate, 
here,  as  Emerson  says,  an  eye,  there  a  leg,  there 
a  stomach,  but  never  a  man? 
Harington.  There  is,  of  course,  a  certain  exag- 
geration, of  which  I  was  myself  guilty,  in  look- 
ing at  a  man  simply  as  a  productive  agent.  Ne 
[201] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

cessarily  he  is,  and  in  any  society  must  be,  also 
a  son  and  a  husband  and  a  father  and  a  friend. 
He  has  a  life  outside  his  work. 
Martin.  Yes,  but  that  is  a  life  of  which  the  prin- 
ciple of  specialisation  takes  no  account,  and 
which  it  would,  so  to  speak,  if  it  could,  put  an 
end  to  altogether.  As,  indeed,  you  will  remember 
Plato,  led  by  the  logic  of  his  idea,  did  actually 
attempt,  forbidding  his  guardians  to  be  ions  or 
husbands  or  fathers  in  any  but  a  nominal  sense. 
But,  surely,  the  truth  is  that  specialisation  is  not 
a  principle  at  all,  in  the  sense  of  an  end  at  which 
to  aim,  but  at  most,  up  to  a  point,  an  unfortunate 
necessity  under  certain  conditions  of  production, 
and  one  that  we  should  wish,  if  we  could,  to  con- 
fine within  the  narrowest  possible  limits. 
Har'mgton.  I  don't  think,  certainly,  that  when* 
one  isolates  individuals  or  classes  and  compares 
them  with  some  ideal  Humanity,  specialisation 
seems  a  good  or  beautiful  thing.  But  when  you 
look  at  the  whole  society,  as  Plato  did  and  as  I 
was  trying  to  do,  then  I  still  think  it  gives  an 
order  which  is  very  beautiful  and  an  end  in  it- 
self. 

Martin.  If,  indeed,  as  Plato  seemed  to  think,  a 
society  existed  in  order  to  be  contemplated  from 
without  by  some  aesthetic  god!  Though,  even  so, 
it  would,  I  think,  be  a  very  superficial  observa- 
[202] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

tion  which  found  such  a  spectacle  beautiful.  But 
a  society  exists  for  the  sake  of  its  members.  Its 
excellence  must  be  judged  by  their  excellence  in 
themselves,  and  not  by  some  supposed  excellence 
in  their  relations,  which  leaves  each  of  them 
maimed  and  halt  and  blind.  What  is  good, 
surely,  is  that  all  men  shall  be  as  complete  men 
as  possible.  And  specialisation,  so  far  from  being 
an  ideal,  is  the  exact  contrary. 
Harington.  If  we  could  do  what  we  liked  I  think 
I  should  agree  with  you.  But  the  conditions  of 
life  seem  to  impose  specialisation. 
Martin.  That  is  no  reason,  however,  why  we 
should  exaggerate  it  as  you  do. 
Harington.  What  I  felt  was  that,  since  there 
must  be  specialisation,  the  only  way  to  deal  with 
it,  so  as  to  get  a  good  order,  is  to  recognise  it 
frankly  and  fully  and  then  reconcile  it  with  jus- 
tice. 

Martin.  But  when  it  is  put  to  you,  do  you  not 
agree  that  the  result  of  that  is  to  form  a  so- 
ciety of  parts  of  men  rather  than  of  men,  and 
that  you  achieve  what  you  call  justice  by  mutilat- 
ing humanity?  And  do  you  really  think  that 
good?  Of  course,  if  you  do,  I  have  no  more  to 
say,  except  to  disagree  with  you ;  and  we  shall 
have  come  to  an  ultimate  difference  of  opinion. 
Harington.  I  cannot  honestly  say  I  think  it  good. 
[203] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

But  I  think  that,  though  bad,  it  is  an  element 
in  a  scheme  of  society  which  is  much  better  at 
any  rate  than  the  actual. 

Martin.  Perhaps  I  might  not  disagree  with  that. 
But  naturally,  like  a  fond  parent,  I  am  anxious 
to  put  forward  the  claims  of  my  own  child,  and 
to  maintain  that  it  is  healthier  and  more  beautiful 
than  yours. 

Harington.  Well,  let  us  go  on  to  yours.  What 
do  you  say  your  principle  is? 
Martin.  I  will  not  call  it  justice,  since  you  have 
appropriated  that  word,  but  I  will  call  it  equity. 
Harington.  Meaning  by  that? 
Martin.  Meaning  a  certain  kind  of  equality  be- 
tween all  the  members  of  the  society.  Only  I  must 
make  clear  what  kind.  For  I  do  not  mean  that 
they  should  be  all  alike.  There  might  be  innu- 
merable differences  of  taste  and  capacity,  both 
original  and  acquired.  But  the  aim  of  the  insti- 
tutions would  be  to  secure  that  these  differences 
should  not  involve  superiorities  and  inferiorities. 
There  would  be  relations  of  friendship  as  complex 
and  various  as  you  like,  but  no  relations  of  master 
and  man,  ruler  and  ruled. 

Harington.  How  then  are  you  going  to  arrange 
for  the  necessary  subordination  involved  in  any 
joint  enterprise?  Will  you  have  no  foremen,  no 
managers,  no  authority  of  anv  kind? 
[204] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  Certainly  I  must  have  authority,  but 
not  superiority.  The  man  who  directs  an  enter- 
prise will  not  therefore  necessarily  stand  higher 
in  public  estimation,  nor  will  he  necessarily  re- 
ceive a  greater  remuneration,  he  may  even  receive 
less,  than  some  worker  in  the  ranks.  He  will  mere- 
ly be  a  man  who  by  natural  gift,  or  deliberate 
application,  is  fitted  for  that  kind  of  work. 
Another,  perhaps,  having  equal  or  greater  ca- 
pacity, did  not  choose  to  exercise  it  in  that  way, 
but  preferred  to  do  routine  work  for  his  living, 
reserving  his  higher  faculties  for  some  creative 
work.  Thus  you  might  find  a  man  who  has 
chosen  for  his  public  and  necessary  task  some- 
thing disagreeable  that  others  desire  to  shirk,  on 
condition  of  being  allowed  more  leisure  for  pur- 
suing scientific  research,  or  for  writing  poetry. 
Such  a  man  would  neither  despise  himself,  nor 
be  despised  by  others,  in  comparison  with  the 
manager  of  the  business  in  which  he  was  engaged. 
Both  would  have  the  same  standard  of  life,  and 
more  or  less  the  same  income;  both  would  be 
educated  men  of  good  manners.  And  the  mere 
fact  that  the  one  was  under  the  orders  of  the 
other  in  the  part  of  his  life  which  to  him  would 
be  least  important,  would  not  make  him  socially 
inferior,  any  more  than  a  member  of  an  eleven 
is  socially  inferior  to  the  captain.  Men  would  be 
[205] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

subordinated  in  innumerable  ways  throughout  the 
whole  structure  of  industry ;  but  these  subordina- 
tions would  not  constitute  class-distinctions,  as 
they  do  now.  For  they  would  not  be  reflected 
in  a  scale  of  position  and  power  transmissible  by 
heredity  and  stereotyping,  in  each  new  genera- 
tion, the  same  distinctions.  On  the  contrary,  these 
industrial  subordinations  would  be  recognised  for 
what  they  really  are,  mere  conveniences ;  and  men 
would  be  valued  by  their  broader  human  qualities 
as  expressed  not  only  in  their  task-work  but  in 
all  the  relations  of  life,  and  especially  in  those 
freer  and  higher  activities  to  which,  we  may 
reasonably  hope,  in  such  a  society,  far  more 
men  than  now  would  be  devoted  far  more  in- 
tensely. 

Harington.  It  is  those  higher  activities  about 
which  I  feel  doubtful.  Your  equality  means  an 
equality  of  drudgery.  You  claim,  I  know,  that 
the  drudgery  need  not,  as  it  does  now,  occupy 
the  whole  time  and  energy  of  most  men ;  but  I 
still  think  it  would  stunt  character.  And  that 
brings  me  back  to  another  aspect  of  my  Aristo- 
cracy. In  one  class  there,  the  governing  class,  I 
have  ensured  that  the  great  qualities  of  human 
nature  shall  be  represented.  And  the  basis  of 
these,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  quality  of  command. 
By  that  I  do  not  mean  merely  what  you  say  you 
[206] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

would  retain  in  your  society,  an  authority  of 
convenience  over  men  recognised  to  be  essentially 
one's  equals ;  but  a  real  superiority  felt  as  such 
on  both  sides,  involving  an  impassable  distinction 
of  kind,  and  engendering  in  the  ruler  a  whole  set 
of  moral  qualities  differentiating  him  essentially 
from  the  ruled.  It  is  this  quality  and  function  of 
command  that  makes  an  Aristocracy ;  and  from 
the  dignity  and  greatness  of  character  thus  pro- 
duced result  all  the  other  characteristics  I  postu- 
late for  my  governing  class,  their  manners,  their 
taste,  their  pride  of  intellect,  their  noble  and 
self -regarding  ethic.  "  Noblesse  oblige,"  that  is 
the  great  principle  I  save  for  my  Aristocracy  and 
you  sacrifice  to  your  Democracy. 
Martin.  This  is  a  new  defence  you  put  forward 
for  your  society.  At  first  you  said  its  principle 
was  justice,  meaning  the  adjustment  of  function 
to  faculty.  I  then  pointed  out  that  really  its 
principle  seemed  to  be  the  creation  of  faculty 
to  suit  function,  and  I  urged  that  this  implied 
the  deliberate  mutilation  of  men.  But  now  you 
maintain  that  one  class,  at  least,  is  not  mutilated, 
the  class  of  rulers.  On  the  contrary,  you  say, 
it  represents  all  the  higher  qualities  of  humanity 
in  a  way  that  is  impossible  under  the  institutions 
of  Democracy. 
Harington.  Yes. 

[207] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  Well,  the  first  point  I  must  raise  there 
is,  whether  really  this  activity  of  ruling  is,  as  you 
say,  the  highest.  And  to  do  that,  we  must  ask 
what  is  the  essence  of  rule,  as  you  conceive  it. 
It  is  not,  if  I  understand  you  rightly,  the  mere 
act  of  ordering  and  directing,  which  is  a  necessary 
function  in  all  society  that  is  at  all  complicated, 
and  for  which  I  provide  in  my  Democracy  as 
much  as  you  in  your  Aristocracy.  But  it  is  the 
act  of  commanding  by  authority  people  who 
obey  because  they  must. 

Harlngton.  I  postulate  that  they  would  obey 
willingly. 

Martin.  Perhaps.  But  they  are  supposed  to  have 
no  choice,  as  well  as  no  desire,  save  to  obey.  And 
it  is  this  fact  that  makes  the  difference  between 
^direction  in  my  society  and  authority  in  yours. 
Harington.  Well,  yes. 

Martin.  In  authority  then,  or  command,  or  rule, 
so  defined,  I  do  not  myself  see  anything  very 
great  and  meritorious,  though  I  see  a  certain 
greatness  in  the  capacity  for  organisation  and 
for  taking  responsibility  which  I  claim  will  exist 
also  in  my  Democracy. 

Harington.  I  claim  that  the  habit  of  command, 
in  my  sense  of  the  word,  produces  a  dignity  and 
force  of  character  not  otherwise  to  be  developed. 
Martin.  I  cannot  see  why,  unless  there  were  re- 
[208] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

sistance  on  the  part  of  the  governed,  and  that 
you  rule  out.  The  Aristocracies,  or  Oligarchies, 
which  I  suppose  you  to  have  in  mind  in  forming 
your  conception  were  military,  and  had  the  mil- 
itary virtues.  It  was  that  that  gave  them  the 
greatness  you  postulate,  along  with  much  else 
which  you  probably  do  not  think  desirable.  But 
you,  as  I  understand,  are  not  thinking  of  a  mil- 
itary state.  Your  rulers  would  be  more  like  direc- 
tors of  companies.  And  are  they  a  particularly 
noble  race? 

Harington.  They  would  not  be  like  directors,  be- 
cause their  motive  would  not  be  pecuniary  gain. 
Martin.  Yet  the  lion's  share  of  the  produce  of 
the  society,  you  said,  was  to  fall  to  them. 
Harington.  Yes,  because  they  are  to  be  the  pat- 
terns of  the  complete  life,  furnished  not  merely 
with  necessaries,  but  with  all  the  materials  of 
magnificence  and  beauty. 

Martin.  From  that  point  of  view,  then,  they  are 
to  be  regarded  as  art-patrons.  For  you  did  not, 
I  think,  suggest  that  they  would  themselves  be 
artists? 

Harington.  No,  not  necessarily.  But  they  would 
see  that  an  appropriate  share  of  labour  and  tal- 
ent was  devoted  to  noble  and  beautiful  things,  of 
which  they  would  be  rather  trustees  for  the  pub- 
lic than  monopolisers  for  themselves.  Whereas, 
[209] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

in  your  society,  say  what  you  may,  I  believe  all 
that  side  of  life  would  simply  drop  out,  and  men 
would  multiply  comforts  at  the  expense  of  art. 
Martin.  I  do  not  say  that  is  impossible;  for  I  do 
not  know  whether  the  love  of  beautiful  and  noble 
things  is  a  permanent  factor  or  a  transitory  phase 
in  human  nature.  And  I  admit  that  you  have,  in 
your  Aristocracy,  a  class  which  might  succeed 
in  preserving  what  under  democratic  institu- 
tions might  disappear.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
if,  as  I  hope,  the  instinct  for  art  persists  in 
human  nature,  then  it  would  have  a  healthier 
and  nobler  development  in  my  society  than  in 
yours,  just  because  it  would  be  the  spontaneous 
outcome  of  popular  forces,  and  not  the  foster- 
child  of  patrons.  My  Democracy,  I  believe, 
would  create  something  like  gothic  cathedrals  or 
the  town-halls  of  mediaeval  Italian  cities;  while 
your  Aristocracy  would  create  Palladian  palaces. 
However,  about  all  that  I  do  not  like  to  dogma- 
tise, and  I  grant  you  the  worth  of  your  govern- 
ing class  as  art-patrons. 

Harlngton.  Then  you  must  go  on,  I  think,  to 
grant  me  something  else,  their  worth  as  patrons 
of  pure  science  and  speculation. 
Martin.  Very  well;  though  that  too,  I  hope, 
would  flourish  also  under  my  Democracy.  The 
argument,  I  suppose,  is  the  same  in  both  cases. 
[210] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

I  will  even  grant  you  all  your  case,  and  admit 
some  extraordinary  superiority  in  the  character 
of  your  Aristocrats,  resulting  from  the  fact  that 
they  are  rulers.  For  I  want  to  come  back  to  the 
point  of  equity,  which  seems  to  me  more  funda- 
mental. Let  us  grant  that  your  ruling  class  does 
represent  the  highest  type  of  life;  yet  others, 
in  your  scheme,  I  suppose  represent  the  lowest; 
and  there  is  a  gradation  all  the  way  down,  as 
specialisation  becomes  narrower  and  emphasises 
physical  rather  than  intellectual  or  moral  quali- 
ties. 

Harington.  That  is  my  idea,  as  it  was  Plato's. 
Martin.  But  now,  if  you  are  asked  by  some 
Democrat  by  what  right  are  certain  people  se- 
lected from  their  birth,  or  before  birth,  for  hon- 
our, and  others  for  dishonour,  some  to  embody 
exclusively  the  higher  and  others  the  lower  aspect 
of  human  nature,  what  will  you  have  to  reply? 
Harington.  I  could  only  reply,  as  Plato  did,  that 
the  interest  of  the  whole  society  demands  it. 
Martin.  But  then,  if  the  Democrat  replies,  as  of 
course  he  will,  "  I  can  construct  on  my  lines  a 
society  as  harmonious  and  beautiful  as  yours, 
and  one  free  from  this  defect  of  inequity  " — 
what  will  be  your  rejoinder?  Do  you  admit  that 
this  arbitrary  distinction  between  classes,  which  I 
am  calling  inequity,  is  a  defect  in  your  society? 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Harington.  Yes,  I  think  it  is   a   defect,  but  a 
necessary  one. 

Martvn.  And  would  it  not  also  be  a  defect,  and 
one  resulting  from  the  other,  that  between  classes 
in  your  society,  which  are  to  be  fixed  and  hered- 
itary and  hierarchic,  the  emotional  relation, 
though  it  may  be  one  of  harmony,  can  hardly  be 
one  of  friendship?  For  friendship  presupposes, 
does  it  not,  equality,  though  not  identity?  It  is 
based  on  an  admiration  and  a  respect  which  is 
mutual.  And  where  one  is  looked  up  to  by  the 
other  as  superior,  both  socially  and  in  every  other 
way,  the  relation,  though  it  may  be  a  good  one, 
will  be  quite  different,  like  that  between  master 
and  servant  at  its  best,  or  patron  and  client? 
Harington.  That,  I  think,  would  be  so. 
Martin.  Well  then,  do  you  or  do  you  not  think 
the  relation  of  friendship  the  best  at  which  we 
can  aim,  however  good,  in  their  way,  others  may 
be? 

Harington.  I  think  perhaps  it  is  the  best. 
Martin.  Does  it  not  follow,  then,  if  all  we  have 
said  be  taken  into  account,  that  the  democratic 
ideal  is  the  better  one?  For  I  can  claim  for  it 
that  it  might  secure  really  as  adequate  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  higher  qualities  of  mankind  as 
could  be  secured  by  your  Aristocracy ;  and  even 
[212] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

if  it  did  not,  yet  it  would  have  this  great  su- 
periority, that  it  would  be  founded  upon  the 
idea  of  equity  and  the  passion  of  friendship 
which  you  yourself  admit  to  be  good,  and  which 
does  not  seem  to  be  compensated  by  anything 
equally  good  in  your  Aristocracy. 
Harington.  I  believe,  from  my  admissions,  the 
conclusion  would  follow,  and  I  accept  it  for  the 
purposes  of  this  discussion,  though  I  do  not  know 
how  it  may  look  when  I  have  thought  it  over 
again. 

Martin.  Let  us  leave  it  so,  then ;  for  the  com- 
parison of  Goods  is  always  difficult,  and  must  be 
settled  by  experience  rather  than  by  dialectic. 
But  one  thing  at  least,  I  think,  does  definitely 
result  from  our  examination,  that  the  dispute 
between  Democracy  and  Aristocracy  as  ideals  must 
be  decided,  in  whatever  form  it  comes  up,  by 
the  comparative  value  attached  on  the  one  hand 
to  specialisation,  on  the  other  to  equity ;  and, 
with  regard  to  the  personal  relations  resulting 
in  either  case,  on  the  one  hand  to  respect  or 
devotion  or  whatever  word  may  be  preferred,  and 
on  the  other  to  friendship.  These,  in  the  last 
analysis,  are  the  principles  on  which  the  two 
polities  rest,  when  all  secondary  considerations 
have  been  removed.  And  it  is  these,  operative  in 
[213] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

men  as  passions  and  ideals,  that  will,  in  the  long 
run  decide  the  issue,  and  are  deciding  it  now 
before  our  eyes. 

Stuart.  Deciding  it  which  way? 
Martin.  Deciding  it,  as  I  think,  in  favour  of 
Democracy.  That,  however,  is  another  point. 
Meantime,  we  seem  to  have  arrived  at  a  provi- 
sional conclusion  to  prefer  the  democratic  ideal. 
Harlngton.  I  assent. 

Martin.  There  remains  only  the  difference  be- 
tween Stuart  and  myself,  which  is,  I  think,  much 
less  fundamental,  and  which  I  am  content  to  leave 
undecided.  We  are  both  Democrats;  and  both 
accept  public  ownership  of  land  and  capital. 
Stuart.  As  an  ideal !  Of  course  I  don't  think  it 
practicable. 

Martin.  As  an  ideal,  then.  But  you  would  prefer 
that  these  means  of  production  be  let  out  to 
private  persons  to  exploit;  and  I  should  prefer, 
on  the  whole,  that  the  community  should  exploit 
them  itself.  There  are  difficulties  and  drawbacks 
to  both  solutions,  and  I  am  not  very  tenacious 
of  mine.  Still,  on  the  whole,  I  prefer  the  attitude 
of  the  public  servant  to  that  of  the  private 
entrepreneur.  You  are  of  the  contrary  opinion. 
And  there  I  am  prepared  to  leave  the  matter. 
Stuart.  I  too. 

[214] 


portance 
of  political 
ideals  as 
guides  to 
practice. 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Martin.  Here  then  are  our  types,  set  up,  let  us  (8)  The  im~ 
say,  like  beautiful  statues  for  us  to  regard  and 
choose  between.  And  now  that  they  are  com- 
pleted, is  it  not  clear,  to  return  to  the  point 
from  which  we  started,  that  it  must  make  a  real 
practical  difference  which  of  them  it  be,  or 
whether  it  be  something  different  altogether,  upon 
which  the  eyes  of  statesmen  or  of  peoples  are 
fixed?  For  supposing  that  they  were  attracted 
by  Harington's  ideal,  they  must  go  back  upon 
the  whole  democratic  movement,  abandon  the  idea 
of  popular  government,  and  of  the  equalisation 
of  wealth,  and  endeavour  rather  to  strengthen 
classes,  and  especially  the  class  of  the  rich,  in- 
creasing rather  than  diminishing  their  wealth 
and  power,  and  making  it  more,  not  less,  secure; 
but  endeavouring  at  the  same  time,  so  to  civilise 
and  educate  them  that  they  may  become  worthy 
to  administer  it  in  the  public  good?  To  convert 
what  is  still  in  most  countries  the  actual  gov- 
erning class  into  a  true  aristocracy  would  become 
the  aim  —  a  very  different  one  from  that  which 
apparently  is  being  pursued  in  most  countries. 
Stuart.  For  that  very  reason,  among  others,  I 
have  found  it  difficult  to  feel  much  real  interest 
in  Harington's  society.  It  seems  to  me  so  clearly 
to  have  no  bearing  on  actual  tendencies. 
[215] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Hanngton.  I  do  not  agree  with  you.  It  is  true 
that,  on  the  surface  and  in  appearance,  all  parties 
everywhere  accept  democratic  principles.  But 
that  is  only  because  the  Oligarchs  find  that  they 
can  best  govern  in  that  way.  Once  they  are 
strong  enough,  or  once  their  hand  is  forced,  they 
will  throw  off  the  mask  and  frankly  repudiate 
the  whole  democratic  convention.  For  at  heart  all 
strong  men  and  all  rich  men  mean  to  rule;  they 
have  no  belief  in  equality  and  in  popular  gov- 
ernment; they  hold  that  a  class,  or  classes,  of 
manual  labourers  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  prop- 
erty owners  on  the  other,  is  a  necessary  and  de- 
sirable feature  of  every  possible  society ;  and  so 
far  as  they  are  not  mere  Oligarchs,  and  admit  no 
ideal  at  all,  their  ideal  must  be  that  of  Aristo- 
cracy, j; 

Martin.  That  is  true,  I  believe;  and  in  fact  al- 
ready the  aristocratic  ideal  is  being  aggressively 
put  forward  by  those  ambitious  and  superior 
young  people  who  hold  themselves  to  be  pre- 
destined representatives  of  the  Overman.  It  is 
among  them,  one  may  suppose,  that  our  Oli- 
garchs, when  the  time  has  come,  will  find  their 
intellectual  champions  and  exponents.  Democracy 
has  not  won  the  day,  it  has  hardly  begun  the  bat- 
tle; for  the  real  fight  begins  with  the  attack  on 
property.  And  in  that  contest  the  other  party  will 
[216] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

not  be  content  with  the  mere  assertion  of  force. 
They  will  need  a  reasoned  theory,  as  did  the  slave- 
owners of  the  South;  and,  like  them,  they  will 
find  that  the  only  theory  which  can  be  at  all 
plausibly  maintained  is  that  formulated  by  Plato 
of  the  natural  inferiority  of  certain  classes  and 
the  natural  superiority  of  others. 
Stuart.  You  don't  suggest,  surely,  that  they  will 
adopt  all  Harington's  scheme,  with  his  fantastic 
system  of  breeding ! 

Harington.  They  would,  if  they  were  thorough 
and  sincere.  At  any  rate,  this  type,  which  I,  after 
Plato,  have  set  up,  is,  I  am  sure,  the  one  to  which 
any  theory  of  Aristocracy  must  conform  that  is 
not  merely  the  cloak  of  an  Oligarchy,  and  really 
does  aim  at  a  principle  of  justice. 
Stuart.  Well,  the  notion  of  our  millionaires 
adopting  such  a  theory  seems  to  me  a  little  ridicu- 
lous. 

Martin.  Add  to  the  millionaires  the  representa- 
tives of  the  old  nobility,  the  military  caste,  the 
aristocrats  of  intelligence,  and  all  their  depend- 
ents and  clients  in  the  press  and  church;  remem- 
ber the  necessity  for  every  party  that  is  to  have 
moral  force, —  and  moral  force  in  the  end  is  the 
only  force  —  to  represent  not  merely  a  fact  but 
an  ideal ;  and  perhaps  the  possibility  will  not 
seem  so  remote.  I,  at  any  rate,  can  quite  easily 
[217] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

suppose  that  before  long  the  opponents  of  De- 
mocracy will  have  the  intelligence  and  the  cour- 
age to  formulate  their  creed.  And  if  they  were 
able  to  secure  power  and  direct  society  as  they 
chose,  they  would  clearly  direct  it  in  the  way  I 
was  suggesting. 
Stuart.  Well,  possibly. 

Martin.  The  other  party,  on  the  other  hand,  for 
years  past  have  formulated  their  needs  in  what  is 
called  Socialism.  And  if  they  come  into  power  it 
will  be  their  object  to  move  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, towards  what  I  have  called  Democracy. 
Stuart.  That  is  so. 

Martin.  But  again,  among  Socialists,  it  will  make 
a  great  difference  whether  they  ultimately  choose 
my  type  of  society,  or  yours.  For  in  the  one 
case  they  will  favour  all  measures  leading  to  the 
direct  conduct  of  business  by  public  authorities; 
and  in  the  other,  they  will  be  as  much  opposed  to 
that  as  any  individualist,  while  still  advocating 
the  public  ownership  of  land  and  capital.  And 
this  distinction,  though  comparatively  unimpor- 
tant when  Collectivism  is  fighting  the  present 
order,  must  become,  it  would  seem,  one  of  very 
great  importance  within  the  ranks  of  the  Social- 
ist party. 
Stuart.  I  agree. 

'Martin.  But  then,  if  all  this  be  so,  what  becomes 
[218] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

of  your  original  contention  that  ideals  have  no 
relation  to  facts  ?  For  we  seem  always  to  see  them 
determining  facts,  as  the  goal  must  always  de- 
termine the  journey. 

Stuart.  No;  the  most  I  can  agree  to  is  that 
parties  formulate  ideals.  But  it  is  not  really  the 
ideals  that  determine  them,  nor  is  it  these  that 
get  realised.  They  are,  so  to  speak,  excuses  or 
cloaks  of  more  primitive  and  unreflective  pas- 
sions. Oligarchs  may  put  forward  an  aristocratic 
theory,  but  they  don't  really  mean  it ;  they  mean 
only  to  acquire  or  maintain  power.  So  again 
Ochlocrats  (to  use  your  term)  may  advertise  the 
democratic  ideal ;  but  it  is  not  equity  that  they 
intend,  it  is  their  own  advantage.  History,  as  I 
read  it,  is  a  struggle  of  individuals  and  classes 
for  power.  Ideals  are  not  a  cause,  they  are  an 
effect ;  they  are  not  an  inspiration,  they  are  a  pre- 
tence. They  are  sparks  struck  from  the  wheel  of 
history.  The  sparks  fly  out  and  vanish,  but  the 
wheel  turns  and  turns,  hard,  material,  ruthless,  in 
its  substance  and  motion  always  the  same. 
Martin.  Here  then  we  have,  straight  and  square, 
your  challenge  to  me,  or  rather  to  history.  You 
say,  as  I  understand,  that  history  has  no  sig- 
nificance. 

Stuart.  No  ideal  significance. 
Martin.  Well,  I  do  not  know  what  other  kind  of 
[219] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

significance  there  can  be  that  could  have  any 
interest.  However,  you  deny  all  force  to  ideals; 
and  consider  it  puerile  to  view  either  the  past 
or  the  present  as  a  movement  towards  their  re- 
alisation. 

Stuart.  Yes,  I  do. 

Martin.  And  you  have  many  and  powerful 
friends  to  back  you.  I  will  not  pretend  that  I 
can  answer  you  or  them  in  a  few  words;  only 
the  whole  of  history  rightly  interpreted  can  re- 
fute or  confirm  you.  But  I  will  do  all  I  can  here 
and  now ;  I  will  say  how  the  relation  of  ideal  and 
fact  appear  to  me;  and  that  at  least  will  define 
the  difference  between  us. 
Stuart.  Very  well,  do  that. 

(9)  The  rela-  Martin.  First,  then,  that  I  may  carry  you  with 
tion  of  me  as  £ar  as  pOSSiblej  J  want  to  admit  the  full 
ideals  to  strength  of  your  case.  For  whatever  may  be  the 
factt.  place  and  significance  of  the  ideal,  it  is  unde- 

niable that  it  has  to  make  its  way  among  alien 
and  hostile  elements.  Let  us  take,  to  begin  with, 
the  more  obvious  physical  facts.  The  world  is 
a  very  small  place,  and  much  of  it  is  unproduc- 
tive. Even  where  it  is  productive,  it  is  not  always 
suited  for  human  existence.  And  even  where  man 
can  live  he  can  live  only  by  labour,  incessant, 
often  degrading,  always  precarious  in  its  results ; 
for  frost  and  rain,  cyclones,  floods,  tornadoes, 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

eruptions,  earthquakes,  sweep  away  in  a  moment 
the  promise  or  the  fruit  of  all  his  toil.  The  nig- 
gardliness and  incalculability  of  Nature,  those 
are  the  bottom  facts ;  and  on  that  treacherous 
foundation  balances  insecurely  all  our  unhappy 
and  hazardous  civilisation.  It  would  be  different, 
we  should  be  different,  our  institutions  would  be 
different,  if  the  world  were  the  Garden  of  Eden 
instead  of  the  wilderness  of  Sinai.  So  that,  at 
bottom,  it  is  Nature,  not  man,  that  is  responsible 
for  social  evil. 
Stuart.  Yes,  that  is  so. 

Martin.  That  is  so;  but  the  rejoinder,  you  will 
anticipate,  is  that  the  poison  has  produced  the 
antidote.  The  brutality  of  nature  evoked  the  will 
and  the  intelligence  of  man.  To  every  move  of 
hers  he  had  his  countermove.  He  met  her  forests 
with  the  axe,  her  stubborn  soil  with  the  plough, 
her  deserts  with  the  water-course,  her  sundering 
oceans  with  the  oar  and  the  sail.  From  generation 
to  generation  the  battle  has  been  turning  in  his 
favour.  He  has  perfected  his  armoury,  while  Na- 
ture has  neglected  hers.  The  canoe  has  grown 
into  the  ocean-liner;  the  spade  into  the  steam- 
plough  ;  the  shadoof  into  the  dam  of  Assouan. 
If  Nature  at  first  was  the  obstacle,  she  is  an 
obstacle  he  has  surmounted.  If,  then,  he  is  still 
distressed,  must  not  the  cause  be  in  himself? 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  No:  for  with  all  his  running  he  never 
comes  up  with  Nature.  His  numbers,  his  needs 
and  his  desires  increase  along  with  his  powers; 
and  with  all  his  wealth  he  is  relatively  as  poor  as 
when  first  he  stood  naked  on  the  earth. 
Martin.  Say  so,  if  you  will,  though  it  is  not  true ; 
and  add,  if  you  choose,  that  the  very  weapons 
with  which  he  fights  are  doled  out,  with  ironical 
caprice,  by  the  adversary  against  whom  he  directs 
them.  No  limit,  it  is  true,  can  be  set  to  the  possi- 
bilities of  science  and  invention ;  but  those  possi- 
bilities themselves  are  at  the  mercy  of  Nature.  It 
is  she  who  produces  or  withholds  that  conjuncture 
of  the  man  and  the  event  whence  leaps  into  life 
the  spark  we  call  an  idea.  Through  dark  and 
barren  centuries  civilisation  waited  in  vain  for 
a  Tubal-Cain  or  a  Prometheus,  a  Gutenburg  or 
a  Watt.  At  this  moment  there  lie,  perhaps,  in  the 
womb  of  the  future  devices  which,  if  they  were 
operative   to-day,   might   realise   the   dreams   of 
Utopia.  But  can  we  by  an  effort  of  will  hasten 
or   retard  their   birth?    Hazard   and   chaos   are 
within  us  no  less  than  without.  Our  foe  is  also 
our  creator,  and  we  are  the  sport  of  her  whims. 
She  will  give  us  a  man  of  genius,  as  she  will 
give  us  an  earthquake  or  a  famine ;  but  she  will 
do  it  when  and  where  she  chooses.  We  may  wait 
and  starve.  No  matter !  She  abides  her  time ! 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

Stuart.  Well,  and  what  can  the  idealist  retort? 
Martin.  He  retorts  that,  though  man  cannot  con- 
trol the  occasion,  he  can  prepare,  or  neglect,  to 
meet  it  when  it  comes.  By  his  institutions  he  may 
make  or  mar  his  fate.  For  they  are  the  channels 
to  carry  the  sacred  fire  when  it  springs,  to  foster 
or  smother,  to  husband  or  to  waste  it,  to  lead  it  to 
a  million  exits,  lambent  and  bright  and  gay,  or 
to  choke  and  obstruct  it,  or  let  it  idly  escape, 
to  waste  its  heat  and  light  where  none  can  profit. 
And  human  institutions,  he  maintains,  all  through 
history,  have  thwarted  rather  than  aided  the  con- 
juncture of  genius  with  chance.  From  the  begin- 
ning the  mass  of  men  have  shared  the  fate  of 
brutes.  They  have  been  slaves  and  serfs,  as  now 
they  are  wage-labourers.  Whatever  fire  may  have 
slept  in  their  souls,  it  has  found  no  channel  of 
hope,  of  opportunity  or  of  ambition,  to  guide  it 
to  the  place  where  it  may  serve.  Not  only  the 
caprice  of  nature,  but  also  the  stupidity  or 
iniquity  of  man  has  intercepted  the  currents,  the 
shock  of  whose  meeting  is  an  idea.  From  before 
the  dawn  of  history  the  faculties  of  the  human 
race  have  been  stunted  and  thwarted  and  repressed 
by  the  customs  and  laws  under  which  they  have 
lived.  That  heavenly  visitant,  the  "  chance,"  has 
knocked  in  vain  at  gates  bolted  and  barred  by 
poverty,  servility,  and  fear.  Human  institutions 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

have  sealed  the  reservoir  of  the  human  spirit. 
Only  here  and  there  a  jet  escaping  from  an  un- 
guarded aperture  has  hinted  at  the  huge  force 
impotently  pent  within. 

Stuart.  Yes,  but  now  comes  my  point ;  these  in- 
stitutions too,  I  say,  are  not  the  work  of  man's 
will,  but  the  imposition  of  his  fatality. 
Martin.  His  fatality  being  Nature,  who  is  within 
him  as  well  as  without? 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  Well,  let  us  give  full  weight  to  the  facts. 
If  man  has  developed  as  he  has,  it  is  not  only 
because  he  is  placed  in  such  a  world  as  we  have 
described,  but  also  because  he  is  such  a  creature 
as  we  have  now  to  admit  him  to  be.  For  what  do 
we  find  him  from  the  first,  at  the  moment  he  began 
to  take  over  his  own  destiny  ?  Was  he  industrious, 
peaceful,  intelligent,  kindly,  helpful?  No,  but  a 
hairy,  biped  brute,  ignorant,  cruel,  superstitious, 
split  into  a  thousand  tribes  and  hordes  instinc- 
tively at  feud,  so  that  war  and  slavery,  with  all 
they  have  carried  in  their  train,  were  primitive, 
inevitable,  and  fatal  as  the  flood  and  the  fire. 
This  was  the  creature,  so  framed  without  his 
own  choice,  who  laid,  as  he  was  bound,  the  foun- 
dations on  which  civilisation  was  built.  Before  he 
knew  what  equity  was  unwittingly  he  had  shaped 
iniquity;  before  he  could  conceive  peace,  he  was 


1A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

plunged  in  war.  From  his  long  sleep  in  the  womb 
of  the  brute  he  opened  his  infant  eyes,  to  find 
himself  by  predestination  an  enemy,  a  murderer 
and  a  thief.  And  thus  it  was,  as  he  grew  to  re- 
flect, to  criticise,  and  to  judge,  that  he  discovered 
within  as  much  as  without  the  object  of  his  repro- 
bation. He  met  himself  embattled  and  entrenched 
against  himself.  What  with  one  arm  he  attacked 
with  the  other  he  defended;  and  the  inheritance 
of  the  brute,  toss  and  plunge  as  he  may,  drags 
at  his  heels  and  hangs  about  his  neck.  If  now 
he  is  split  into  nations,  straining  at  the  leash  for 
war;  if  now  the  nations  heave  and  crack  in  the 
tension  of  class  conflict;  that  is  because  within 
him  work  the  tiger  and  the  wolf.  Because  once 
there  were  claws  and  teeth,  there  are  now  guns 
and  warships ;  because  once  there  were  capture 
and  rape,  there  is  now  prostitution  and  adultery ; 
because  once  there  were  slaves  and  serfs,  there 
are  now  wage-labourers.  We  did  not  make  our 
institutions ;  no !  Nature  made  them  in  us.  Even 
while  we  criticise  them,  our  brains  are  silenced 
by  our  bellies ;  and  our  law  of  property  and  in- 
heritance, our  manners  and  morals  of  sex,  are 
natural  facts  as  obdurate  to  ideals  as  the  tempest 
or  the  volcano.  Is  something  of  that  kind  what 
you  meant  when  you  pulled  me  up  with  your 
protest  about  institutions? 
[225] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.    Yes.  And  now,  what  have  you  got  to 
say? 

Martin.  Only  this,  which  is  also  true,  and  the 
recognition  of  which  —  please  note  it  —  is  what 
is  at  the  bottom  of  my  difference  with  you. 
This  animal,  Man,  this  poor  thin  wisp  of  sodden 
straw  buffeted  on  the  great  ocean  of  fate,  this 
ignorant,  feeble,  quarrelsome,  greedy,  cowardly 
victim  and  spawn  of  the  unnatural  parent  we 
call  Nature,  this  abortion,  this  clod,  this  inde- 
cent, unnamable  thing,  is  also,  as  certainly, 
the  child  of  a  celestial  father.  Sown  into  the 
womb  of  Nature,  he  was  sown  a  spiritual  seed. 
And  history,  on  one  side  the  record  of  man's 
entanglement  in  matter,  on  the  other  is  the 
epic  of  his  self-deliverance.  All  the  facts,  the 
dreadful  facts  at  which  we  have  timidly  hinted, 
and  which  no  man  could  fairly  face  and  live, 
all  those  facts  are  true;  stop  at  them,  if 
you  will!  But  true  also  is  the  contest  of  which 
they  are  the  symbol,  real  the  flood  no  less  than 
the  deposit  it  has  left ;  real,  of  all  things  reallest, 
the  ideal!  Do  not  conceive  it  as  an  idea  in  some- 
body's head.  No !  ideas  are  traces  it  leaves,  shad- 
ows, images,  words:  itself  is  the  light,  the  fire, 
the  tongue,  of  which  these  are  creatures.  Poetry, 
philosophy,  art,  religion,  what  you  will,  are  but 
its  expressions;  they  are  not  It.  Thought  is  a 
[226] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

key  to  unlock  its  prison,  words  are  a  vessel  to 
carry  its  seed.  But  It  is  Reality  of  Realities, 
fact  of  facts,  force  of  forces.  It  refutes  demon- 
stration ;  it  unsettles  finality ;  it  defies  experience. 
While  all  men  are  crying  "  impossible,"  it  has 
sped  and  done.  Even  in  those  who  deny  it,  it 
lies  a  latent  spark;  let  them  beware  the  con- 
flagration when  the  wind  of  the  spirit  blows ! 
Stuart.  But,  forgive  the  interruption,  if  that  be 
so,  how  is  it  that,  in  your  opinion  at  any  rate, 
Society,  after  all  these  centuries,  is  still  as  bad  as 
it  is? 

Martin.  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  fear  I  was  becom- 
ing rhetorical  when  I  wanted,  if  I  could,  to  be 
clear.  Let  me  begin  again.  Looking  at  the  thing 
as  straight  as  I  can,  and  in  what  philosophers  call 
a  calm  moment,  I  find  in  men  a  real  fact,  the 
impulse  to  create  the  ideal,  and  this  I  represent 
to  myself  as  a  seed  sown  into  the  soil  of  Earth 
with  her  insufficiency  and  insecurity,  of  the 
flesh  with  its  needs  and  desires.  What  therefrom 
grows  up  is  the  tree  of  human  history,  receiving 
its  form  from  the  seed,  but  its  matter  from  the 
soil  and  air,  warped  and  stunted,  blighted  and 
starved,  battered,  mutilated,  broken,  but  always 
straining  upward  to  the  light  and  the  sky,  and 
throwing  out  branches  and  bearing  leaves  by 
the  law  of  its  inner  impulse.  At  any  moment, 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

then,  we  may,  indeed  we  must,  say,  at  once 
that  man  is  a  spirit,  if  we  look  at  his  ideal 
form,  and  that  he  is  a  brute,  if  we  look  at  his 
stuff;  at  once  that  his  Society  is  bad  and  that 
its  shaping  soul  is  good;  at  once  that  his  history 
is  a  sordid  chronicle  of  crime,  and  that  it  is 
a  solemn  school  of  righteousness.  The  one  is  not 
true  and  the  other  false;  the  truth  is  the  Whole, 
which  I  am  trying  thus  schematically  to  bring 
before  your  mind  and  mine. 
Stuart.  Well,  and  then? 

Martin.  And  then,  you  see,  it  follows  that  it  is 
difficult  to  avoid,  if  one  is  sensitive,  a  constant  os- 
cillation between  a  brutal  realism  and  a  blind  ideal- 
ism. For  if  we  observe,  day  after  day,  the  masses 
of  modern  men,  walk  their  mean  streets,  enter  their 
squalid  homes,  note  them,  by  myriads,  shot  at 
birth  into  a  world  so  base,  peering  and  peeping 
in  ways  of  life  so  narrow  and  so  obscure,  and 
bribed  by  an  impulse  of  passionate  youth  to  tie 
the  fatal  knot  that  binds  them  for  life  to  the 
whirring  wheel  of  drudgery ;  or  if  from  them  we 
turn  to  those  who  seem  to  be  the  more  fortunate 
few,  and  see  them  too,  though  they  might  look 
up,  blind  to  the  sun  and  the  stars,  toiling  none  the 
less  like  slaves,  or  idling  like  idiots,  and  ready  to 
shriek  with  fear  and  rage  if  one  lift  a  corner  of 
the  veil  that  shuts  out  the  light  from  their  palace- 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

prisons ;  if  thus  regarding  this  hive  of  ants,  so 
busy,  so  mean,  so  futile,  we  then  turn  inward  to 
find  in  ourselves  the  swarming  fears  and  needs 
that  explain,  though  they  do  not  justify,  the 
spectacle ;  while  far  above,  dim  and  remote,  flick- 
ers the  flame  of  the  ideal  which  alone  enables  us 
thus  to  behold  and  judge;  then  I  confess,  in  such 
a  mood  and  under  such  an  obsession,  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  believe  that  the  ideal  is  but  an  idea, 
and  that  to  attribute  power  to  it  is  as  idle  as  to 
suppose  that  it  is  the  love  of  perfection  that  holds 
the  stars  constant  in  their  courses.  And  more  and 
more,  in  our  time,  historians  and  men  of  letters, 
and  still  more  those  who  call  themselves  men  of  the 
world,  as  indeed  they  are  men  of  this  world,  are 
coming  to  take  and  express  that  view,  looking 
back  with  a  kind  of  contempt  on  poets  like  Goethe 
or  Carlyle,  who  thought  that  history  was  a  bible 
and  Nature  the  garment  of  God. 
Stuart.  As  you  too  think? 

Martin.  As  I  too  think,  when  I  am  myself.  For 
those  who  look  closer  and  with  a  more  genial  vi- 
sion find  that,  in  the  midst  of  the  evil  and  squal- 
or there  is  also  something  else,  working  ob- 
scurely and  leavening  the  whole,  an  impulse  of 
love,  however  brief,  a  stress  of  duty  however  cir- 
cumscribed; that  a  sap  is  flowing  through  wood 
that  seems  so  iead ;  and  that  the  faint  and  flicker- 
[229] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

ing  lamp  of  the  ideal  is  lit  from  fire  that 
burns  at  the  heart  of  the  world.  That  fire  kindks 
history.  Natural  facts,  economic  facts,  instincts, 
needs  and  desires  are  the  fuel  it  transmits  into  a 
spiritual  essence.  Always,  even  in  times  called 
of  peace,  it  is  gnawing  at  the  roots  of  society. 
For  it  is  the  never-satisfied;  and  one  of  its 
names  is  Justice.  It  is  the  greatest  of  all  ener- 
gies; and  men  of  the  world  call  it  a  dream!  It 
made  the  French  Revolution ;  it  is  making  revolu- 
tion now  in  Russia;  it  is  undermining  the  whole 
fabric  of  western  society.  One  by  one  it  is  de- 
taching from  the  building  the  buttresses  of  con- 
viction, and  leaving  the  mere  walls  of  fact  that 
strain  and  crack  to  their  fall.  It  is  not  only,  not 
even  chiefly,  the  working  classes  that  are  the 
strength  of  that  great  movement  of  revolt  we  call 
broadly  Socialism.  Its  strength  is  the  weakness 
of  the  ruling  class,  the  scepticism  of  the  rich  and 
the  powerful,  the  slow,  half -unconscious  detach- 
ment of  all  of  them  who  have  intelligence  and 
moral  force  from  the  interest  and  the  active  sup- 
port of  their  class.  Nay,  those  who  deny  Social- 
ism are  most  under  its  power;  their  hollow  cries 
of  rage  and  desperation,  their  intellectual  play 
with  the  idea  of  force,  betray  their  bitter  sense 
of  a  lost  cause.  Justice  is  a  power;  and  if  it  can- 
not create  it  will  at  least  destroy.  So  that  the 
[230] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

question  for  the  future  is  not,  shall  there  be  revo- 
lution, but  shall  it  be  beneficent  or  disastrous? 
Stuart.  And  so,  in  the  last  resort,  you  end  a  re- 
volutionist ! 

Martin.  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  must  pull  myself 
up,  for  I  have  been  carried  beyond  the  argument. 
I  was  trying  to  show  you  how  I  regard  the  rela- 
tion of  the  Ideal  to  the  Actual,  and  in  what  way 
I  think  it  a  real  force.  I  cannot,  of  course,  prove 
that  I  am  right ;  but  that  is  what  I  believe,  so  far 
as  I  can  at  present  formulate  it. 
Stuart.  Yes,  I  see,  more  or  less,  what  you  are 
driving  at. 

Martin.  You  see,  then,  also  that  from  this  point 
of  view,  the  Ideal  is  not  Utopian,  in  the  sense  in 
which  that  word  is  commonly  used.  It  has  always 
reference  to  contemporary  facts,  is  engendered 
by  and  against  them,  and  is  itself  part  of  the 
process  that  is  working  out.  Though  it  appear 
in  heaven  it  is  not  an  unapproachable  star;  it  is 
the  light  struck  from  the  friction  of  contest. 
Stuart.  Yes. 

Martin.  And  so,  in  the  case  of  modern  Socialism, 
with  which  we  are  concerned,  it  claims  to  be  not 
an  idle  dream  but  a  true  prophetic  vision,  the  fu- 
ture with  which  the  present  is  fatally  big;  and 
for  that  reason  it  calls  itself  scientific. 

[231] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  Reason  small  enough,  so  far  as  I  have 
been  able  to  discover. 

Martin.  I  do  not  myself  think  its  science  is  very 
correct,  nor  its  necessity  very  necessary.  But  so 
much  I  think  is  true,  that  its  hope  of  the  future 
is  based  upon  the  study  of  the  present,  and  its 
ideal  conceived  as  the  result  of  a  real  process. 
Where  it  errs,  I  think,  is  in  the  attempt  —  in  a 
reaction  against  utopianism  —  to  eliminate  alto- 
gether the  appeal  of  the  Ideal,  and  to  imagine 
the  industrial  forces  of  themselves,  independently 
of  human  choice,  delivering  from  the  womb  of  the 
class-war  a  babe  of  fraternity  and  peace.  All 
that,  to  me,  is  chimerical.  If  an  ideal  is  to  re- 
sult, an  ideal  must  be  willed;  and  whether  it 
can  result  or  no  is  not,  so  far  as  we  can  see, 
fatally  determined,  but  depends  upon  our 
choice.  Only  that  choice  must  not  be  made  in 
the  void,  as  of  a  castle  in  the  air,  but  here  on 
earth,  of  a  site  which  we  seem  to  be  really  able  to 
occupy  with  materials  we  really  can  command. 
And  that,  I  claim,  is  the  character  of  the  ideal 
we  have  been  constructing,  and  that  is  my  jus- 
tification for  regarding  it  as  a  guide  to  action. 
Stuart.  My  doubts,  or  denials,  I  have  already 
put  forward  and  I  will  not  repeat  myself.  What 
I  am  interested  to  learn  is  how,  granted  that 
your  ideal  is  practicable,  you  will  propose  to 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

proceed  to  its  realisation.  Are  you  —  as  I  asked 
a  moment  ago  —  are  you  a  revolutionist  ? 
Martin.  I  am  neither  good  enough  nor  bad 
enough  for  that.  I  hate  discontinuity,  confusion, 
insecurity,  as  all  men  do  except  the  best,  or 
worst ;  and  I  do  not  hate  the  rich  as  rich,  nor  the 
strong  as  strong,  for  no  men  do,  except  the  mean- 
est. I  am  not  a  revolutionist ;  yet  I  think  revolu- 
tion may  come. 

Stuart.  Certainly  it  may,  if  the  socialists  have 
their  way. 

Martin.  I  would  say  rather,  if  your  friends  in 
the  City  have  their  way.  At  least,  if  I  am  at  all 
right  in  the  impression  I  have  received  of  them, 
mainly  from  yourself. 
Stuart.  What  impression? 

Martin.  Well,  it  seems  to  me  —  I  don't  know 
whether  I  exaggerate  —  that  all  the  possessing 
classes,  financiers,  capitalists,  manufacturers, 
lawyers,  professional  men,  in  political  issues  are 
singularly  uninstructed  and  unimaginative;  that 
they  are  as  blind  to  the  great  equity  as  they  are 
tenacious  of  the  little,  as  unintelligent  of  the 
whole  movement  and  onward  sweep  of  Society  as 
they  are  intelligent  of  those  little  ripples  on  its 
surface,  wars  and  crises,  out  of  which  they  make 
their  gains  and  losses.  And  seeing,  in  that  im- 
mense phenomenon  called  Socialism,  which  is  as 
[233] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

much  the  essence  of  our  age  as  Liberalism  was  of 
the  last,  nothing  but  the  greed  of  the  poor,  the 
folly  of  sentimentalists,  or  the  wickedness  of 
adventurers ;  camping  on  their  possessions,  like 
Fafner  on  the  hoard,  in  reliance  on  that  en- 
chanted ring,  established  law  and  fact ;  they  may 
indeed,  by  sheer  obstruction,  provoke  a  revolu- 
tion, in  the  sense  of  disturbance,  disaster,  and 
ruin  for  them  and  for  all  Society. 
Stuart.  You  admit,  then,  at  least,  that  a  revolu- 
tion would  be  disastrous? 

Martin.  Yes.  For  I  do  not  believe  there  is  any- 
where at  this  moment  any  great  body  of  men  fit 
for  a  better  society.  To  me  it  is  a  pure  illusion 
of  certain  Anarchists,  that  the  wage-earners  have 
either  the  capacity  or  the  desire  to  establish  to- 
morrow, by  force,  an  equitable,  harmonious  and 
progressive  society.  Our  history  and  our  institu- 
tions have  produced  in  us  all  the  same  kind  of 
vices  and  defects.  And  the  working  class,  I  can- 
not but  think,  no  less  than  the  rest  of  us,  have 
still,  as  their  main  ambition,  to  make  themselves 
better  off  than  other  people;  and  their  idea,  like 
ours,  of  being  better  off,  is  to  eat  and  drink  to 
excess,  to  dress  absurdly  and  to  play  stupidly 
and  cruelly.  I  do  not  suppose  them  to  be  better 
than  the  rest  of  us ;  they  are  only  at  the  bottom 
[234] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

instead  of  at  the  top ;  and  so  long  as  by  Social- 
ism they  merely  mean  getting  to  the  top  them- 
selves, or  at  least  putting  somebody  else  to  the 
bottom,  they  are  not  likely  to  make  a  better  tiling 
of  Society  than  we  have  done.  There  can  be  no 
Socialism  that  has  any  ideal  value  till  the  mass  of 
men  in  all  classes  are  morally  and  intellectually 
converted. 

Stuart.  That  is  as  good  as  saying  that  Social- 
ism is  not  practicable  at  all,  and  means  the  aban- 
donment of  your  whole  case. 
Martin.  No !  For  I  believe  in  conversion,  partly 
conditioning  and  partly  conditioned  by  a  grad- 
ual and  progressive  change  of  institutions.  It  is 
only  as  against  revolution,  that  is,  an  immediate 
catastrophe,  that  I  oppose  the  facts  of  human 
nature  as  it  now  seems  to  be. 
Stuart.  Well,  if  you  come  to  that,  everybody 
preaches  conversion. 

Martin.  Not  in  the  sense  in  which  I  intend  it. 
On  the  contrary,  the  pulpit  and  the  press  are 
mostly  preaching  the  opposite;  for  they  are  the 
counsel  retained  for  the  present  order.  I  do  not 
mean  by  conversion  that  a  man  should  take  to 
going  to  church,  nor  even  become  kindly  and  char- 
itable, just  and  honest,  within  the  limits  of  the 
current  law  and  morality.  I  mean  a  complete 
[235] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

change  in  his  whole  attitude  towards  that  law 
and  morality,  a  recognition  of  it  as  wrong,  or 
at  least  as  inadequate. 

Stuart.  Your  convert,  in  fact,  will  be  converted 
to  what  the  daily  press  calls  theft. 
Martin.  Certainly  he  will  say  with  Proudhon 
"  property  is  theft,"  not  for  the  sake  of  epigram 
or  melodrama,  but  with  a  deep,  clear  conviction 
which  will  affect  all  his  reactions  to  every  pro- 
posal of  change.  Instead  of  crying  "  confisca- 
tion "  whenever  he  heard  of  any  project  directly 
or  indirectly  threatening  property,  his  whole  pre- 
occupation would  be  how  to  destroy  property  — 
meaning  of  course  the  present  law  of  property  — 
with  the  least  possible  disturbance,  confusion, 
and  suffering.  If  he  were  a  poor  man  he  would 
consider  how  the  transition  could  be  made  easy 
for  those  at  present  in  possession ;  if  he  were  rich, 
he  would  consider  how  it  might  be  made  as  rapid 
and  effective  as  possible.  Lawyers  would  plan 
how  to  further  it,  instead  of,  as  now,  how  to 
thwart  it.  Financiers  would  rack  their  brains  to 
prevent  a  crisis,  instead  of  provoking  one  to  ter- 
rorise reformers.  Manufacturers  would  work  and 
save  harder  than  ever,  not  though,  but  because, 
their  savings  were  going  to  the  community ;  and 
wage-labourers  would  work  with  greater  responsi- 
[236] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

bility,  energy  and  enthusiasm,  as  they  became  the 
servants  of  the  Public. 

Stuart.  That  would,  indeed,  be  a  conversion ! 
Martin.  Yes.  For  now,  we  being  as  we  are,  what 
happens  and  is  likely  to  happen,  whenever  any- 
thing is  done  or  threatened  that  touches  prop- 
erty for  the  public  Good,  is  an  instantaneous 
rally,  unthinking  and  in  the  literal  sense  brutal, 
of  all  the  propertied  classes  about  any  or  every 
abuse  out  of  which  they  are  drawing  incomes. 
Lawyers  are  at  work  in  a  moment  to  see  how  the 
measure  proposed  may  be  rendered  inoperative ; 
the  press  is  inundated  with  misrepresentations 
and  appeals  to  passion ;  capital  is  withheld,  work- 
men are  thrown  out  of  employment,  a  social 
crisis  is  precipitated,  in  order  that  this  or  that 
piece  of  iniquity  may  continue  unchecked,  this 
or  that  form  of  robbery  and  oppression  be  per- 
petuated. And  all  this,  remember,  is  done  by 
good,  kindly  people,  respectable  citizens  by  all 
our  standards,  devoted  fathers  of  families, 
thrifty,  prudent,  far-sighted  men,  on  whom,  as 
the  Economists  insist,  quite  rightly  within  their 
assumptions,  the  maintenance  and  progress  of 
Society  depends.  So  perverted  are  the  standards, 
so  inadequate  the  social  code  engendered  by  our 
institutions. 

[237] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Stuart.  It  is  not,  as  you  have  just  said  yourself, 
the  propertied  classes  only  that  are  unfit  for 
Socialism.  They  object  to  it,  no  doubt,  and  in 
my  opinion  with  justice.  But  they  have,  none  the 
less,  the  kind  of  qualities  which,  if  they  approved 
it,  would  enable  them  to  work  it.  They  have  pub- 
lic spirit  and  public  honesty,  as  well  as  public 
capacity:  whereas  the  working  class  has  none  of 
these.  No  sooner  do  they  become  employees  of 
a  public  body  than  they  take  the  opportunity  to 
malinger  and  shirk.  To  do  as  little  as  possible 
for  the  highest  possible  wage  is  all  they  really 
have  at  heart;  and  whatever  be  their  theory  of 
Socialism,  in  practice  all  that  it  means  is  exploit- 
ing rate-payers  in  the  interest  of  their  own  class. 
Martin.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  apportion  between 
different  classes  their  due  share  of  social  im- 
morality. I  do  not  idealise  men  who  work  with 
their  hands,  any  more  than  men,  like  us,  who  live 
upon  property.  That  is  why  I  am  not  a  revolu- 
tionist ;  that  is  why  I  insist  upon  moral  reforma- 
tion. Only,  as  I  was  saying,  the  moral  reformation 
I  have  in  view  depends  upon  an  intellectual 
change  in  our  attitude  towards  our  institutions. 
We  have  to  come  to  see  that  they  are  not  final 
but  transitional;  not  beyond  question,  but  of  all 
things  the  most  questionable.  They  are  our  in- 
heritance from  the  past,  but  they  are  a  bad  in- 
[238] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

heritance,  although  one  that  could  not  have  been 
better.  Our  business  is  not  to  rally  round  them, 
but  to  analyse,  dissect  and  expose  them  in  all 
their  true  monstrosity ;  till,  coming  to  hate  them, 
we  come  to  hate  ourselves,  who  make  them  possi- 
ble and  necessary,  and  to  determine  that  we  will 
change  in  us  that  human  nature  which  is  the 
whole  argument  upon  which  they  rest.  It  is  this 
change  in  spirit  that  is  the  essence  of  Socialism ; 
as  the  perpetuation  of  the  present  spirit  is  the 
essence  of  the  opposition  to  it. 
Stuart.  I  don't  think  that  is  true.  Many  of  us 
feel  a  kind  of  platonic  sympathy  with  Socialism, 
but  we  believe  it  to  be  impracticable ;  and  that,  I 
think  I  may  fairly  say,  not  because  we  are  preju- 
diced by  class-interest,  but  on  valid  objective 
grounds. 

Martin.  I  am  not  disputing  that  many  measures 
advocated  by  Socialists  might,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
if  introduced  to-day,  turn  out  quite  differently 
from  what  is  anticipated,  and  result  even  in  dis- 
aster. It  is  no  doubt  very  difficult  to  forecast, 
things  being  as  they  are,  what  is  likely  to  be  the 
real  effect  say  of  a  special  tax  on  land-values, 
or  of  a  project  to  create  small  holders,  or  of  a 
graduated  income  tax.  Practical  statesmen  and 
political  economists  are  bound  to  consider  such 
proposals  with  reference  to  existing  facts,  and 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

may  reasonably  and  without  animus  pronounce 
them  impracticable.  But  this  is  the  point  on 
which  I  wish  to  insist ;  their  practicability,  or  the 
reverse,  depends  upon  a  certain  attitude  of  mind 
among  the  people  who  will  have  to  work  them ; 
and  that  attitude  is  the  basis  of  all  the  reasoning. 
For  instance,  if  those  who  are  affected  by  a 
measure  regard  it  as  inequitable,  they  will  wish, 
and  very  likely  may  be  able,  to  defeat  its  pur- 
pose, and  will  do  so  with  a  good  conscience.  Or 
again,  if  they  treat  an  arrangement  intended  for 
the  public  Good  as  an  instrument  of  private 
advantage,  then  again  they  may  pervert  it  from 
a  benefit  to  a  calamity.  Impracticability  in  these 
cases  means  that  the  end  proposed  by  the  legis- 
lator will  not  be  achieved,  even  though  he  passes 
his  law.  But  this  is  not  the  kind  of  impractica- 
bility that  might  be  urged  if  it  were  proposed  to 
alter  the  law  of  gravitation.  It  is  human  nature, 
not  the  nature  of  things,  that  stands  in  the  way ; 
and  human  nature  is  modifiable  by  human  will. 
Stuart.  Possibly ;  but  if  human  nature  begins 
modifying  its  idea  of  equity,  where  are  we?  If 
there  were  no  other  objection  to  Socialism,  there 
is  that  fatal  one,  that  it  could  not  possibly  be 
brought  into  being  without  intolerable  injustice. 
Martin.  Your  objection  will  serve  very  well  as 
an  illustration  of  the  point  I  am  making.  And 
[240] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

I  reply  at  once  that,  in  consequence  of  our  in- 
stitutions, there  has  grown  up  among  us,  I  will 
not  say  an  altogether  false,  but  an  imperfect  and 
maimed  idea  of  equity. 
Stuart.  How  do  you  mean? 

Martin.  I  mean  that  the  sense  of  equity  — 
which  is  a  real  and  important  social  force  — 
moves  in  all  classes,  but  especially  among  the 
well-to-do,  within  the  limits  of  the  existing  insti- 
tution of  property.  The  only  thing  we  most 
of  us  hold  to  be  really  unjust  is  to  take  away  a 
man's  property  without  full  compensation.  It 
follows  that  no  political  cry  is  so  effective  as  that 
of  confiscation.  The  mildest  project  of  rectify- 
ing, in  the  most  gradual  way  and  with  the  mini- 
mum of  disturbance  and  suffering,  some  of  the 
inequalities  of  distribution,  at  once  arouses  that 
cry;  so  that  the  notion  that  socialistic  measures 
are  inequitable  is,  as  you  say,  the  first  and  most 
fundamental  reason  why  they,  are  impracticable. 
Stuart.  And  a  very  good  reason. 
Martin.  Good  as  an  obstacle  I  admit,  but  not 
good  as  a  refutation.  Not  that  I  wish  to  deny, 
as  many  Socialists  do,  that  confiscation  is  an  in- 
equity ;  nor  will  I  take  the  cynical  view  and  point 
out  how  seldom  that  fact  has  prevented  the  rich 
from  taking  the  property  of  the  poor.  I  will 
only  ask  you  to  recall  to  your  mind  all  that  has 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

resulted  from  our  analysis  of  property.  Prop- 
erty itself,  I  tried  to  show  and  half  hoped  I  had 
convinced  you,  is  unjust,  though  we  are  so  used 
to  its  injustice  that  it  is  hard  for  us  to  see  it. 
Nor  does  it  seem  that  it  can  ever  be  effectively 
transformed  without  measures  which  may  be 
truly  described  as  confiscation.  So  that  really, 
there  is  an  ethical  antithesis.  Are  we  to  perpet- 
uate injustice,  or  are  we  to  cure  it  by  injustice? 
And  when  the  question  is  so  put,  as  I  believe  it 
ought  to  be  put,  it  becomes  clear  that  the  fact 
that  a  measure  is  confiscatory  is  not  necessarily  a 
fatal  objection  to  it.  The  problem  is  far  more 
complex.  We  have  to  ask :  "  Is  the  evil  involved 
in  the  confiscation  greater  or  less  than  the  per- 
petuation of  existing  inequity?  "  The  answer  to 
this  question  can  never  be  simple.  But  certainly 
it  is  not  likely  that  the  balance  will  always  be 
against  any  confiscation,  however  mild,  gradual 
and  merciful.  What  stands  in  our  way  is  the 
inability  or  reluctance  of  men  to  put  the  question 
in  that  way ;  and  that  again  depends  upon  their 
lack  of  understanding  of  the  actual  evils  of  So- 
ciety and  their  causes;  and  that  again  depends 
upon  their  obsession  by  habits  and  prejudices  and 
interests;  and  that  again  upon  their  lack  of  im- 
agination, which  presupposes  and  causes  a  lack 
of  intelligence.  So  that  we  come  back  to  what  I 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

said;  this  great  obstacle  to  reform  depends  upon 
a  mental  attitude,  and  until  that  is  destroyed  it 
is  impossible  that  there  shall  be  any  progress. 
Stuart.  If  you  destroy  that,  you  destroy  the  pos- 
sibility of  any  society. 

Martin.  I  think  not.  There  can  be  no  society,  I 
admit,  without  an  effective  conception  of  equity. 
But  why  must  it  be  just  this  conception  which 
we  have,  so  poor  and  inadequate  as  it  is,  that  the 
rights  of  property  are  for  ever  inviolable,  how- 
ever immense  the  wrongs  which  they  involve? 
Stuart.  If  they  involve  wrongs  the  Community 
ought  to  pay  the  cost  of  abrogating  the  wrongs, 
and  so  save  the  rights. 

Martin.  The  Community  has  not  always  taken 
that  view,  nor  always  been  blamed  for  not  taking 
it.  They  gave,  for  instance,  no  compensation  to 
the  slave-traders.  But  I  do  not  press  that  point, 
for  I  agree  with  you  that,  wherever  and  up  to 
whatever  point  compensation  can  be  given  with- 
out defeating  the  very  purpose  of  a  measure,  it 
ought  to  be  given.  But  that  condition  is  not 
present  in  the  case  of  a  transition  so  large  as  that 
contemplated  by  a  revolution  in  the  whole  insti- 
tution of  property.  For  the  grant  of  compensa- 
tion in  full  would  mean  the  perpetuation  of 
exactly  those  rights  which  I  am  assuming  it  to  be 
the  object  to  destroy.  If  the  intention  is  to  sub- 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

stitute  public  for  private  ownership  of  land  and 
capital,  it  is  clearly  nonsense  to  talk  of  giving 
full  compensation,  because  that  would  be  to  per- 
petuate with  one  hand  the  private  ownership 
which  you  are  destroying  with  the  other. 
Stuart.  And  so,  as  I  said,  you  fall  back  upon 
robbery. 

Martin.  Why  use  that  language?  We  are  not 
upon  the  hustings.  We  have,  if  we  are  Socialists, 
a  definite  problem  to  solve,  the  creation  of  an 
equity  at  the  cost  of  an  inequity.  Clearly,  the 
solution  must  lie  in  the  direction  of  making  the 
inequity  involve  as  little  real  hardship  as  possi- 
ble. And  that  could  be  done,  if  people  were  rea- 
sonable and  patient,  by  extending  the  process 
over  a  long  period  of  time.  The  difficulty  is  that 
even  such  a  procedure,  though  the  evil  it  pro- 
voked might  be  negligible  compared  with  the 
good,  would  still,  in  the  present  state  of  opinion, 
be  denounced  as  confiscation  and  ruled  out  with- 
out further  consideration,  on  the  ground  of 
equity,  not  only  by,  those  who  would  suffer  by 
it,  but  by  many  of  those  who  might  gain. 
Stuart.  That  is  a  sign  of  their  sound  morals. 
Martin.  A  sign,  I  admit,  that  they  put  morals 
above  interest,  and  for  that  they  are  to  be  re- 
spected; but  no  sign  that  their  moral  conception 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

is  the  true  one.  My  point  is  that  it  is,  I  will  not 
say  false,  but  inadequate,  and  that  it  requires 
supplementing  and  correcting  by  a  clear  and  en- 
larged view  of  the  inequities  of  our  system  of 
property. 

Stuart.  Say  what  you  may,  what  you  are  really 
doing  is  to  invite  the  poor  to  take  the  property 
of  the  rich. 

Martin.  It  is  that  way  of  putting  the  matter 
that  I  think  it  essential  to  avoid;  for  directly  it 
is  so  put,  the  Socialist  has  his  reply :  "  Your  pres- 
ent system  is  the  taking  of  the  property  of  the 
poor  by  the  rich.  I  repudiate  your  equity;  I 
affirm  mine ;  and  now,  since  you  will  have  it,  let  us 
fight."  And  I  am  bound  to  say,  if  it  is  in  that 
form  that  the  issue  is  to  come  up,  that  the  Social- 
ist's position  is  to  me  more  convincing  than  his 
opponent's.  But  in  truth  they  are  both  false. 
Society  is  not  a  deliberate  exploitation  of  the 
poor  by,  the  rich;  it  is  a  silly,  sordid  muddle, 
grown  up  out  of  centuries  of  violence  and  per- 
petuated in  centuries  of  stupidity  and  greed.  In 
many  respects  the  rich  are  as  much  to  be  pitied 
as  the  poor,  and  the  poor  as  much  to  be  repro- 
bated as  the  rich.  If  people  would  come  to  see 
that  and  to  feel  it,  we  might  really  begin  to  move 
along.  For  with  the  right  will  we  could  discover 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

the  right  means,  difficult  though  that  be  to  do ; 
or  rather,  with  the  right  will  almost  any  means 
would  become  practicable. 
Stuart.  No  doubt,  if  we  were  all  angels. 
Martin.  I  ask  for  nothing  angelic.  I  ask  that  we 
shall  come  to  understand  and  judge  rightly  our 
society.  And  if  that,  which  is  not  at  all  chimer- 
ical, can  be  brought  about  by  instruction,  difficul- 
ties of  every  kind  which  seem  insuperable  will  soon 
disappear  of  themselves.  For  practically  all  the 
objections  urged  against  socialistic  measures  are 
based    upon    the    assumption  —  here    and    now 
probably  true  enough, —  that  men  are  stupid  and 
cowardly  and  greedy  and  narrow-minded. 
Stuart.  For  example? 

Martin.  Oh,  take  any  case  you  like.  Say  it  were 
proposed,  with  a  view  to  making  the  distribution 
of  wealth  more  equitable,  to  impose  a  high  pro- 
gressive income-tax  or  death-duties.  What  will 
happen?  Why,  we  are  told,  after  a  certain  point 
capital  will  emigrate,  or  men  will  cease  to  save, 
or  to  work  in  their  old  age ;  production  will  thus 
fall  off,  and  more  will  be  lost  by  that  check,  even 
among  the  very  poorest,  than  could  be  gained  by 
the  more  equitable  distribution.  Quite  possibly 
that  is  true.  But  what  does  it  imply?  It  implies 
that  men's  attitude  is  such  that  they  will  only 
work  and  save  for  themselves  and  their  cliildren 
[246] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

but  not  for  the  Community.  "  That  is  ultimate," 
you,  I  suppose,  and  all  your  friends  would  say ; 
and  you  might  even  think  it  satisfactory  and  de- 
sirable. To  my  mind  it  is  not  ultimate,  it  is  rudi- 
mentary and  barbarous.  It  is  an  attitude  bred  of 
ignorance  and  lack  of  imagination.  Let  men 
come  to  understand,  which  means  to  feel  as  well 
as  to  know,  what  a  Society  is,  how  every  member 
is  bound  up  with  the  whole,  how  everybody  con- 
tributes to  everything  anybody  gets,  how  un- 
principled is  the  present  distribution  of  wealth 
and  opportunity  and  power;  let  all  this  be  put 
to  everyone  in  the  language  he  best  understands, 
not  provocatively  or  with  threats,  but  as  a  matter 
of  simple  fact ;  and  I  believe,  as  the  generations 
go  on,  the  attitude  which  I  deprecate  may  be 
modified  and  transformed. 

Stuart.  It's  the  old  difference  between  us !  You 
believe  in  changing  human  nature. 
Martin.  I  believe  that  human  nature  changes  in 
relation  to  the  stages  of  civilisation ;  and  that 
nothing  is  so  unscientific  and  nothing  so  obstruc- 
tive to  progress  as  to  take  the  way  in  which  men 
behave  under  our  present  transitional  and  bar- 
barous conditions,  and  call  it  the  eternal  prin- 
ciples of  human  nature,  conceived  to  be  as  fixed 
and  as  ultimate  as  the  movement  of  the  earth 
round  the  sun.  Yet  this  is  what  statesmen  and 
[247] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

even  Economists  are  always  doing,  in  the  light- 
ness of  their  hearts.  And  that  is  why  they  come 
into  conflict  with  the  prophets  and  the  poets.  For 
these  latter  are  the  rebels  who  assert  against 
Man  as  he  is,  Man  as  he  shall  be  and  must  be. 
They  are  the  sap  pressing  up  in  the  tree  of  Hu- 
manity; they  are  the  growing  points  feeling 
out  into  the  light.  "  This  tree  is  dead  wood," 
cries  the  practical  man,  and  the  man  of  science 
echoes  him.  "  No,  no,"  says  the  poet,  "  this  tree 
lives.  Something  in  it  is  pushing  outwards ; 
there  lie  in  it  buds  and  leaves;  what  it  is  it  shall 
not  be  when  the  spring  comes.  I  know,  I  know, 
I  know,  though  I  cannot  prove." 
Stuart.  That  may  be  all  very  well  for  a  poet; 
but  it  is  not  the  attitude  or  language  of  a  states- 
man. 

Martin.  Not  of  our  statesmen  of  to-day,  but  per- 
haps of  our  statesmen  of  to-morrow.  For  what 
we  are  all  suffering  from,  more  than  from  any- 
thing else,  is  the  divorce  of  poetry  from  life  and 
of  imagination  from  practice. 
Stuart.  Perhaps;  but  the  remedy  can  hardly  be 
to  act  poetry  and  imagine  facts. 
Martin.  No;  but  to  transform  our  inner  life  by 
the  power  of  imagination,  as  we  are  transform- 
ing the  outer  world  by  the  force  of  science.  Ex- 
cept in  so  far  as  that  is  done  there  can  be  no  real 
[248] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

progress ;  and  when  it  is  done,  and  in  proportion 
as  it  is  done,  how  different  will  become  the  tone 
of  electors  and  of  politicians  and  of  the  press  on 
all  the  subjects  we  have  been  discussing!  I  am 
going  home  to-morrow  to  vote,  with  little  enough 
enthusiasm,  for  I  know,  men  being  as  they  are, 
how  little  anyone  can  do.  But  I  hear  in  my 
heart  all  the  time  such  a  speech  as  has  never  been 
delivered,  and  feel  a  response  such  as  has  never 
yet  been  evoked. 
Stuart.  Let  us  have  the  speech. 
Martin.  Will  you  promise  me  the  response? 
Stuart.  I  make  no  promises.  Give  me  the  speech. 
Martin.  I  cannot  catch  that  eloquence  from 
those  far  heights.  But  I  will  tell  you  the  sub- 
stance of  what  I  seem  to  hear.  Imagine  the  great 
man,  imagine  an  electorate  instructed  at  last  by 
years  of  barren  strife,  imagine  the  auspicious 
moment,  imagine  the  voice  of  passion.  "  Fellow 
citizens,"  thus  the  orator  begins  — "  I  stand  be- 
fore you  to  demand  a  mandate  for  revolution. 
The  time  for  petty  measures,  for  insincere  talk, 
for  burking  principles  and  disguising  purposes, 
is  past.  I  am  here  to  announce  my  desire  and  my 
intention,  if  you  will  give  me  the  commission,  to 
inaugurate  a  scheme  for  altering  the  whole  basis 
of  property.  The  reasons  that  have  driven  me  to 
this  position  are  familiar  to  you,  and  weigh,  I 
[249]  * 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

believe,  as  strongly  with  you  as  with  myself. 
The  conditions  under  which  we  are  living  are  ad- 
mittedly preposterous.  A  few  of  us  have  far  too 
much,  some  of  us  enough,  but  most  of  us  far  too 
little.  Those  who  have  very  little  work  hard  for 
it,  when  they  are  allowed,  all  day  and  every  day, 
at  the  most  disagreeable,  dangerous  and  exhaust- 
ing labour;  or  else,  not  being  even  allowed  to 
work,  people  our  workhouses  and  prisons,  or  join 
the  criminal  class,  or  starve.  Those  who  have  too 
much,  work  too,  some  of  them,  very  hard,  but  at 
the  more  pleasant  and  stimulating  kinds  of  la- 
bour; others  do  not  work  at  all,  but  devote  their 
lives  to  ruining  themselves  and  their  dependants. 
This  distribution  of  property  and  labour,  fur- 
ther, is  in  effect  hereditary ;  for  the  children  of 
the  rich  are  brought  up  with  every  advantage  of 
education  and  opportunity,  and  those  of  the  poor 
with  every  disadvantage.  Our  society  is  thus  a 
handicap,  but  one  based  on  no  principle;  for  it 
is  the  birth,  not  the  capacity  of  the  runner,  that 
determines  his  start.  This  state  of  things  used  to 
be  described  as  one  of  free  competition;  but  we 
have  learnt  to  call  it  by  its  true  name,  social 
anarchy.  We  all  deplore  it ;  we  all  wish  to  alter 
it ;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  we  are  afraid  to  do  so. 
For  we  see  that  to  do  it  we  must  attack  property ; 
and  although  our  law  of  property  is  the  source 
[250] 


'A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

of  all  our  inequities,  yet  we  see  it  to  be  the 
foundation  of  our  society,  and  we  fear  that  if  we 
tamper  with  it  the  whole  building  will  come  down 
about  our  ears.  This  fear  we  must  put  away 
from  us.  It  will  be  my  business,  if  I  win  your 
confidence,  to  plan,  with  the  advice  and  assist- 
ance of  our  ablest  practical  men,  such  a  scheme 
of  transition,  as  will  lead  us,  without  serious 
disturbance  or  shock,  over  to  a  better  and  more 
equitable  social  condition.  I  do  not  doubt  that 
this  can  be  done,  if  we  seriously  will  to  do  it. 
But  we  must  will  it  all  of  us,  both  those  who 
stand  immediately  to  lose  and  those  who  stand  to 
gain.  It  is  no  party  scheme  which  I  invite  you  to 
commission  me  to  draft;  it  is  no  plan  for  plun- 
dering the  rich  by  the  poor.  No  1  It  is  a  plan  to 
prepare  the  way  for  a  more  prosperous,  a  more 
free,  a  more  noble  community,  by  the  willing  co- 
operation of  all  classes. 

"  I  invite  you  all,  and,  first,  I  invite  the  rich. 
Now  is  their  great  opportunity.  I  appeal,  and  I 
appeal  with  confidence,  to  their  chivalry;  I  go 
further;  I  appeal  to  their  true  interest.  Are 
they  happy  as  rich  men?  Is  their  conscience 
at  ease?  Is  their  life  large,  adventurous  and  no- 
ble? Do  they  meet  friends  wherever  they  go?  Are 
they  loved  and  respected?  Or  are  they  not  rather 
camped  among  enemies,  isolated,  envied  or  de- 
[251] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

spised,  cut  off  from  communion  with  their  kind, 
from  the  great  human  passions  and  the  great 
human  needs?  Is  it  with  satisfaction  that  they 
see  their  children  entering  upon  life,  spoilt  from 
the  cradle,  untrained,  undisciplined,  unrefined, 
unfit  for  work,  incapable  of  pleasure,  selfish,  nar- 
row, frivolous  and  false?  To  them  and  to  their 
children  I  offer  the  great  chance.  I  offer  them 
the  interest  of  active  cooperation  for  the  public 
good.  To  their  souls,  seared  and  seamed  by 
drought,  I  offer  the  water  of  life.  I  offer  them 
the  opportunity  to  be  patriots.  Is  it  not  an  op- 
portunity worth  paying  for,  and  paying  high? 
Yet  I  offer  it  cheap.  No  sudden  loss  shall  fall 
upon  them.  Their  children,  it  is  true,  and  their 
grandchildren  unborn  will  start  from  the  ranks ; 
the  happier  they !  But  the  rich  men  now  among 
us  will  continue  to  be  rich,  and  their  children  now 
grown-up  will  not  be  poor.  We  shall  proceed 
gradually  and  with  discretion  in  the  redistribu- 
tion of  wealth ;  and  what  we  ask  from  the  rich  is 
less  an  immediate  money-sacrifice  than  the  active 
cooperation  of  the  ablest  among  them  in  discov- 
ering the  most  statesmanlike  method,  and  the 
loyal  acquiescence  of  them  all  in  the  scheme  that 
is  finally  adopted. 

"  To  the  poor  I  have  a  different  message.  I 
have  to  ask  them,  first,  as  they  have  waited  pa- 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

tiently  for  generations,  to  wait  yet  another  half 
century ;  to  be  content  to  view  the  promised  land 
into  which  not  they,  but  their  children  and  their 
children's  children  will  enter.  They  have  the 
power  of  numbers;  but  that  is  not  enough;  they 
need  the  power  of  ability.  Without  the  willing 
cooperation  of  the  captains  of  labour  nothing 
effective  can  be  done;  on  grounds  of  policy,  as 
well  as  on  grounds  of  equity,  we  cannot  afford 
to  alienate  them  by  measures  which  they  regard 
as  confiscation.  That  appeal  then  I  make  to  you, 
the  appeal  for  patience  and  fairness.  But  it  is 
the  least  of  what  I  have  to  ask.  I  call  upon  you 
to  rise  to  the  height  of  the  new  opportunities 
opening  before  you.  Hitherto  you  have  worked 
under  the  lash  of  fear  for  yourselves  and  your 
children;  henceforth  learn  to  work  under  the 
stimulus  of  citizenship  for  the  public  Good.  Take 
full  advantage  of  the  chances  now  beginning  to 
be  offered  in  a  cheaper,  a  better,  a  more  practical 
education  to  learn  well  not  merely  your  trades, 
but  your  place  as  members  in  the  body  of  So- 
ciety. Acquire  responsibility,  and  with  it  dignity. 
Let  shirking,  cheating,  corruption  become  among 
you  offences  against  your  own  self-respect,  no 
less  than  against  the  Community.  Let  the  law, 
made  henceforth  by  and  for  yourselves,  become 
to  you  as  your  own  will.  The  future  for  which 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

I  invite  you  to  prepare  is  not  one  of  mere 
prosperity;  it  is  not  even  one  of  mere  equity. 
It  is  a  future  of  conscious  and  proud  public  serv- 
ice. What  we  offer  is  the  charter  of  your  spir- 
itual liberty;  make  yourselves  and  your  children 
worthy  of  it.  We  open  the  gates  of  the  temple 
of  Humanity;  make  yourselves  clean  that  you 
may  enter  in. 

"  And  this  I  say,  in  conclusion,  to  all  of  you, 
rich  or  poor.  Henceforth,  in  principle,  classes  are 
abolished.  No  kind  of  work  is  base,  though  many 
kinds  must  be  onerous ;  and  because  his  work  is 
onerous  no  man,  in  the  time  that  is  coming,  shall 
be,  as  he  is  now,  poor  and  despised.  To  make 
work  honoured  and  leisure  noble,  henceforth  is 
the  business  of  us  all.  It  is  also  our  inspiration 
and  our  joy.  The  age  of  languid  effort,  of  indif- 
ference, monotony  or  despair,  of  opiate  pleasures 
and  base  excitements,  is  passed.  Life  remains  in- 
comprehensible, but  it  becomes  great.  The  pur- 
pose and  sense  of  it  is  at  our  doors,  clangorous 
and  clear  as  a  trumpet.  To  work  as  we  shall  work, 
to  use  our  leisure  as  we  shall  use  it,  carries  with  it 
its  own  justification.  Outside  is  the  mystery;  but 
within  us  the  call,  and  by  our  institutions  the 
means  to  fulfil  it.  What  more  need  we  ask  in  the 
span  of  our  brief  lives?  The  challenge  I  fling  to 
[254] 


A  POLITICAL  DIALOGUE 

you  is  the  greatest  to  which  ever  men  have  been 
invited  to  respond.  It  is  the  challenge  to  put  off 
your  gait  of  the  mill-horse  pacing  his  round ;  it  is 
the  challenge  to  live  of  your  own  motion,  like  free 
spirits  as  you  are ;  it  is  the  challenge  to  use  insti- 
tutions, instead  of  being  used  by  them;  it  is  the 
challenge  to  unseat  things  from  the  saddle  of 
destiny  and  to  seat  there  instead  the  human  soul. 
Is  it  not  worth  sacrifices,  if  sacrifices  be  involved? 
Is  it  not  worth  effort,  thought,  imagination, 
faith?  What  in  comparison  are  our  petty  quar- 
rels about  yours  and  mine?  You  and  I  alike  own 
nothing  but  ourselves.  Of  that  let  us  make  our- 
selves masters ;  the  rest  will  be  added  unto  us ! " 
Stuart.  Is  that  all? 

Martin.  All  I  can  reproduce,  here  and  now. 
Stuart.  Well,  I  only  ask  you  not  to  try  it  on  the 
platform  when  you  get  home. 
Martin.  I  do  not  speak  like  that  on  the  plat- 
form; but  I  never  speak  without  that,  or  some- 
thing like  it,  singing  in  my  heart.  It  is  the  same 
tune  that  the  stream  sings  to  me,  day  by  day, 
that  the  pine-trees  whisper  and   the   mountains 
echo. 

Stuart.  Preposterous  man !  And  have  the  stream, 
the  pine  trees  and  the  mountains  been  singing  t*» 
you  which  way  to  vote? 

[255] 


JUSTICE  AND  LIBERTY 

Martin.  O  yes !  That  is  why  I  am  going  home. 
Stuart.  And  may  one  ask  what  their  counsel  was? 
Martin.  You  may  ask.  But  I  am  protected  by 
the  ballot. 


THE    END 


PRINTED  AT  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  NEW  YORK 


A    nnn 


